Author's Note: Thanks to the people who are reading this story and leaving thoughtful reviews. (Emphasis on reading fully intended, and if you're wondering what I mean by that, I'm probably talking about you.) And thanks to the wonderful where_is_truth, for all her toil and trouble as my beta. Four more completed chapters are waiting in the wings - how quickly they're posted depends on y'all. Hope you enjoy the chapter.
***
It was like being released from a cage, Draco thought. Having held onto his memories of her so tightly, for so long, he was now flooded with the very emotions he'd tried to repress. Love. Loss. Longing. He was feeling them all, and he was barely able to think.
His secretary, too, thought him similar to a caged animal when she walked into his office to inform him he'd missed an appointment. A panther, perhaps - stalking around the desk with lethal grace and snarling with barely leashed fury at the interruption.
After she tripped over her feet in her rush to leave, he realized he wasn't in a state to deal with other people. A witch was commanding his full attention, but he wasn't ready to deal with her, either. He had to think, and he couldn't do that here.
He grabbed his wand to Apparate, but before he flicked his wrist, he snatched her letter from his desk and tucked it carefully inside his robes, planning to finish reading it at home. It would be better read in a place where her memory already taunted him. He might still escape her here. He laughed bitterly at the thought. It wasn't the first time he'd lied to himself.
In his living room, Draco glanced around with hooded eyes. He thought of her there often enough, but with her letter folded over his heart, he could almost feel her. It was like taking a blow to the stomach while simultaneously having his cheek caressed, and the sweet pleasure-pain was overwhelming.
He felt himself sinking into memories and struggled to focus. He had to finish the letter.
I do know you loved me, then. I knew it when I walked out, and I've known it every day since. I thought I couldn't be completely happy without your ring on my finger, but I should've known better, shouldn't I? I learned a long time ago that happiness is independent of material things, no matter what they symbolize.
I thought I knew what I wanted, what I needed from you. So much time has gone by, and now there's a ring on my finger. Seems silly that it took so long for me to understand what you were trying to tell me that night.
All I need is you.
Her familiar signature was scrawled below those last words, and it took several minutes before he could tear his eyes from the page.
"Ginny," he murmured aloud. This was the opportunity he'd hoped for without expecting it would come. She was inviting him back into her life, intimating that there was room for him in her heart. But was it that easy? Could it possibly be as simple as it seemed?
He knew the answer to that question. If not for his pride, he'd have gone to her long before this, even without knowing her feelings. But he'd tripped over his pride enough times to know it was fully capable of causing him to fall flat on his face.
His eyes narrowed suddenly, even as he felt his heartbeat quicken at the thought of another chance. There might be more room if not for her fiancé. Damn him … whoever he was.
Anyone who knew him - or his reputation - would have thought it odd to find Draco Malfoy lacking any information he wanted. But his first order of business in the office after he'd lost Ginny had been to order all information on the Weasleys kept from him. He didn't want to see headlines in the Daily Prophet. He didn't want to hear any office gossip about her. As far as he was concerned, she had ceased to exist that night.
Except in his memory.
Now it was time to prepare his offense. Ginny had provided an opening, but he'd be a fool if he went to her without a plan. It already seemed that she wouldn't refuse him when he came to her, and that was good, but it wasn't good enough. He was going to make it impossible.
If Draco's longtime secretary, Twyla Waverly, was surprised to see his face appear in her fireplace at 11 p.m., she managed not to show it. She schooled her expression to remain neutral as he demanded all back issues of the Daily Prophet that made mention of a Ginevra Weasley, and she did not flinch when he ordered them on his desk by 8 a.m.
One grew accustomed to such things when working for Draco Malfoy. Only when his face retreated from the flames did Twyla allow herself to smile. Clearly, this explained the mystery of the letter he'd received. She busied herself with gathering the requested items then - he'd said 8 a.m., but patience was a virtue he'd never learned and one he certainly hadn't been born with.
Displaying the efficiency that had gotten her - and let her keep - her job, Twyla took less than two hours to complete her task. Carefully shrinking the bundle of newspapers, she tucked it into her pocket and Apparated to the office. She knew his habits and his expectations, and she thought she'd guessed at the motivations behind this request, but even so, she was surprised when she walked into his office and found him sitting behind his desk.
"Mr. Malfoy! I …" She hated stuttering in front of him, showing any form of weakness that might cause one of those pale eyebrows to arch in amusement at her expense, but she truly hadn't expected him to be here, sitting in the dark.
"You said eight o'clock," she accused weakly, sure he could see the rapid pulse fluttering in her throat. She dared a glance at him, waiting for the sharp words or the look that signaled his annoyance.
Neither came. He didn't look up, didn't appear to register her presence in the room. His head was in his hands, which were rubbing his temples slowly, as if it ached. Twyla was sufficiently startled at the vulnerability he was displaying to comment on it.
"Are you all right, sir? You look … sir, you don't look well. Is there anything -"
His head jerked up then, and Twyla had to bite her tongue to stifle a gasp. His eyes were red-rimmed and dull with pain, but he still managed to level a fierce glare in her direction.
He didn't speak, but Twyla understood the message clearly enough. Shut up and go. Leave me.
She hurried to retrieve the bundle of shrunken papers from her robes and fumbled to return it to its original size. Her wand was shaking so badly in her trembling hand that it took three tries before she managed to perform the simple swish-and-flick action and deposit her findings on her desk.
She might have tried to stammer an apology if she hadn't been quite so shaken, but instead she Disapparated instantly and hoped she'd make it home intact.
Draco stayed in the dark for several minutes before he picked up the first newspaper. Twyla had made it easy for him, inserting tabs on the pages where Ginny was mentioned, knowing he wouldn't want to bother hunting for the information he wanted.
He'd have done it, though - Ginny was worth everything to him. Thumbing through pages was a simple task if it brought him the smallest step closer to her. Anything would be simple to do if it brought him closer to her.
He read quickly, following her promotions through the Ministry with little interest. He cared about what she'd been up to, certainly, but there was one bit of information he was particularly eager to get to, and it had nothing to do with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. A small notice in one of the more recent issues let him know that she'd resigned suddenly from her job six weeks ago, and his brow furrowed. Why had she left? All the articles he'd skimmed seemed to praise her work, which explained how she'd risen through the ranks so swiftly.
He found his answer on the following day's front page, in the form of an obnoxiously large headline announcing her engagement. There was a picture there, too, but Draco scarcely noticed Ginny's face. All his attention, his fury, his pain - they were focused on the smiling face of the wizard holding her hand.
Potter. He might have guessed, if he'd allowed himself to think of it. But his self-imposed isolation from any outlet that might mention her had kept that news from reaching him. Not that it mattered. In this area, his pride served him well. He knew no other wizard could touch Ginny's body and reach her soul. But to think of that great ponce Harry Potter touching his Ginny … the thought roused every primitive male instinct he had.
The thought of his Ginny with Potter was almost laughable, but there was no amusement to be seen on Draco's face. There was grim determination, though - he knew his rival's name now. And finally, a smile curved his lips as he realized he knew exactly how to proceed.