Author's Note: I'm really, really sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter posted. I kept forgetting the right file, since this chapter is a special Portkey-friendly version, edited down for the H/G action. Yes, you read that right - there's a teeny bit of H/G action in this chapter. It doesn't last long, and it doesn't happen again. Give peace a chance, huh? I hope you enjoy the chapter.
***
Hermione's voice was too bright, Ginny knew. Surely Harry would not believe … but he did. Perhaps his greatest fault was that he always believed. There was no suspicion lurking in his green eyes as he pulled up a chair next to Ginny's and covered her still-trembling hands with his.
He did not notice.
Ginny yanked her hands back and stood up quickly. Harry blinked.
"Tea," Ginny blurted, moving to the counter so her back was to the table. "Don't you want tea, Harry?"
"Sure, Gin," Harry murmured confusedly. "But …"
"More tea, Hermione?" Ginny said as she placed Harry's cup in front of him.
Hermione looked up and saw the plea in Ginny's eyes. She hesitated for a second, then held out her cup.
"I'd love some."
Ginny's answering smile was grateful, and Hermione watched as she moved around the kitchen. Though she was graceful as always, she was obviously tense, and just as obviously not ready to be alone with Harry.
So Hermione stayed, fumbling through Quidditch talk with Harry while Ginny tried to find her smile. There was a hint of it when Hermione complimented Harry's "Wonky Feint" in his recent match with Puddlemere United, and it flashed briefly when Harry inquired about the fascinating world of cauldron bottoms, but she stayed quiet.
Hermione stayed until the third time she yawned, when Harry poked her arm affectionately.
"If you don't go home soon, you'll splinch yourself," he teased. "I think we can manage here," he added, wrapping an arm around Ginny.
Ginny's smile was strained, but she nodded slightly in response to Hermione's silent question.
"Good night, Hermione," she said softly. "I'll talk to you soon." Hermione studied her face while Harry hugged her goodbye, and when she Disapparated, she did not look entirely satisfied.
Harry reached out a hand to Ginny, and she took it automatically, returning his smile as he led her into the living room.
He was turning to her, holding her, nuzzling her neck as soon as they sank onto the sofa. Ginny put her arms around his neck and tried to hold on.
"Love you," he whispered into her neck, and she pulled back to look at him. He was entirely hers, she knew. She felt a sudden stab of guilt. He was a good man, and he loved her. Enough to marry her.
Those thoughts were best held at bay, Ginny knew, and she tried to close her mind and focus on Harry as he bent his head to kiss her. She forced her lips to part under his and willed herself to think of only him.
The first time Harry had kissed her after proposing - was it only six weeks ago? Days, weeks, months all blurred together - Ginny thought she could really be his. His mouth covered hers, and for a second she was lost in him. She had learned that night that it was dangerous to get lost, because when she closed her eyes, it wasn't Harry kissing her.
As soon as she pictured his face, she felt her breathing start to hitch and the kiss turned urgent as she struggled to give into the sensations washing over her, and when they broke apart to catch their breath, his name was on her lips.
Since then, she promised herself every time that she would get a handle on this, that the hands touching her would be the hands she thought of.
She hadn't managed to keep that promise yet, but she continued to renew it.
And now she was fighting the same battle she lost each night. Harry made a small, contented noise and pulled her closer to him. Ginny's sigh when he did could have been one of pleasure. Harry took it for that, rather than what it really was: Another defeat.
When Ginny's eyes slipped shut, for the first time the scene in her head wasn't a love story - just the end of one.
***
She hadn't meant to say it. She'd meant it, certainly, but this conversation required nerve and focus - half a bottle of wine had dulled the latter, and she wasn't entirely sure she'd mustered the former. Even if she had, it wasn't a discussion that should have been started by accident.
They would have gotten to this point eventually, Ginny knew. But instead of tiptoeing toward that dangerous precipice, her direct question had shoved them to the edge of it. And there was no way to go back, she thought as she watched him. He had gone entirely still, and his beautiful grey eyes were pained.
He shifted on the couch so he was facing her and took her hands in his, running his thumbs over the soft skin he knew so well. He was stalling, and they both knew it.
Finally, he decided it might be best to start with the simple truth.
"I love you," he said, echoing her words. "I'm in love with you."
She gave him a tremulous smile, and his heart ached. Damn it. He would have liked nothing better than to have stopped there and taken her in his arms, but he had more to say. Even if he didn't want to say it, and even if he didn't know how.
He glanced at his empty wine glass and briefly wished he hadn't drained it so quickly, though he knew the courage to have this conversation wouldn't be found in a bottle. He wasn't sure it could be found in him, either.
She was waiting patiently for him to speak, but he could feel the tension in her hands, just as he could see it in her eyes. Gods, he'd do anything to avoid hurting her - with the exception of lying to her. Which left him with no good option. Hurt Ginny or lie to her. Cut off his left arm or his right. Impossible choices.
"The last thing I want," he said slowly, "is for you to leave." The last thing he wanted, and the thing he feared most. He tightened his grip on her hands and willed her to understand.
"I won't let you be hurt."
At that, Ginny opened her mouth to protest, and he shook his head. "My father …"
"I don't give a damn about your father!" she said hotly. "Draco, don't you see? I'm not afraid of him."
He gritted his teeth and tried to answer her calmly. "You don't understand," he started to say.
Her voice was equally calm, but the layer of ice in it cast a chill over the room. "I understand perfectly. To you, your father, his involvement with the Death Eaters - they're reasons for us to hide. To me, they're excuses. You're not willing to risk it."
"Damn it, Ginny! I'm not willing to risk you."
She was shaking her head, and he watched the candlelight dance across her hair as he struggled to compose himself. It was falling apart too quickly - he could feel the seams ripping. It made him desperate, and it made him furious.
"You know what you are to me," he rasped. "You're everything. You're the light in my fucking darkness. Gods, Ginny, you know that. If you know anything about me for sure, it's how I feel about you."
She pulled her hands from his and stood abruptly. He wanted to fall at her feet and beg her to understand, if that was what it would take, but he was still a Malfoy, and there was still the matter of his pride. It was warring with his love, and the battle was fierce.
Ginny watched the emotions play on his face and choked down a sob. She was on the edge of falling into his arms and taking it all back. They could Obliviate the memory and pretend everything was all right. But pretending would not make it so.
His breath was coming in heavy pants as he fought for control, and those storm-grey eyes watched her, waiting for her response.
"You love me," she repeated. "I do know that. But not enough. I would risk everything, Draco, to be with you, be your wife. You don't know how it hurts …" she broke off, and he watched her expression harden. If she could have performed a similar action for her heart, it might have been easier.
"I never thought you were a coward," she whispered bitterly.
He leapt up then, eyes blazing, and took a step toward her, reaching out. She moved backward, the pain evident on her face.
"All or nothing," she said brokenly, and he sucked in a breath, feeling the weight of her words like a physical blow.
She saw him stop, saw the change in his face as he evaluated her words. She saw the decision he made reflected in his eyes and wondered how he could break her heart without saying a word.
She turned blindly, looking for escape, and stumbled toward the door. She could not Apparate, didn't trust herself to Floo … but she had to go. It was impossible to stay in the room with him. Her shoes were forgotten, tucked beside the sofa, and she tried to concentrate on how the carpet felt beneath her feet. Anything to postpone thinking of what she had lost.
Her trembling hand was on the doorknob before he called out to her.
"Ginny, wait," he said desperately. She stopped there, standing at the door. Her shoulders stiffened when he spoke, but she didn't turn around.
"I don't want you to go." With her back to Draco, Ginny let the first tear fall, and then she turned to him. His eyes fixed on the tear trailing down her smooth cheek before he lifted his gaze to her eyes.
Her small smile was regretful. "I know that. I know you don't want me to go." She paused and let her eyes wander over ever well-loved inch, wondering if she was doing it for the last time.
"But you don't need me to stay."
She pulled the door open and ran into the hall, leaving the door ajar behind her. It was several minutes before it shut quietly, and Draco leaned against it with the last of his strength.
He'd had to shut the door, for he knew she wasn't coming back.
***
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