Abandoned

Abandoned

A Harry Potter fan-fic

By Anti Darth Ani

Author's Note: This is just a little one shot I wrote for an idea that suddenly popped into my head. It's only this one chapter, so read and enjoy (and tell me what you think, I'm not sure if this idea has been used before)!!

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He studied the blonde haired man staring back at him. The man looked so familiar to him, though he couldn't remember if he'd ever seen this person before. He wanted to kill him for the way the other man had his arm around her, and for the way they both smiled back at him, as though they were happy. Yet, he'd never met this man, not in person at least. But now he could finally put a face to the man that haunted his dreams, who taunted him as he slept.

He heard the sound of glass breaking and turned around, with the picture frame still clung desperately in his hand. She looked the same as she had all those years ago, with just a hint of fear and confusion added. “You cannot be here,” were the first words to spill out of her mouth as she bent down to try to collect all the shards of glass from her broken cup.

“I take it you've moved on fine without me,” he replied, pointing to the other man with his index finger. This picture was a Muggle contraption, for nothing moved in it. In fact, as he looked around, most of the objects in the house were those of Muggles. Strange, he thought to himself. Very peculiar indeed.

“You promised you wouldn't come back,” her voice trembled slightly, and she refused to look directly at him. Instead, she busied herself with throwing away the broken glass fragments. Once she placed the glass safely in the trash, she wiped her hands on the side of her skirt. But still, she refused to look him directly in the face.

He'd never thought her the shy type and her behavior mystified him. She looked the same, but maybe she had changed over time. No matter how much he wanted to clutch to the image of her he'd slept with for the past four years, he already felt it fading away. He took a step forward and paused when he saw her step back. “I want you to leave now,” she told him hesitantly. Her fingers gripped the doorway as she tried to control her balance. Her life had been all about balancing for the past four years. Balancing the new and the old together, even though she wanted the old to just disappear.

“You don't mean that,” he told her, and she was taken back by the idea that he knew more about her than she did. How dare he come back and suddenly show up at her house, unannounced, as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't walked out on her for his own cause. A cause neither of them believe in.

“I've moved on,” she insisted, but her demeanor suggested otherwise. She looked confused, not sure whether to pull him close or push him away. She was acting defensively because she learned in the past four years that it was the only way she would survive. “You need to go now,” she reiterated, trying to pushing him out without actually touching him. She didn't want to feel his skin, to remember when and how she'd touched it so many times before.

“I've come because I want to explain to you why I left in the first place,” he told her, finally putting down the frame that threatened to cut his finger. “I want to apologize to you and make you understand why I did what I did.”

She shook her head, even as he spoke. “I won't go through this now,” she told him, stepping away from the doorframe. “I can't take seeing you again.”

“Why? Because you're overwhelmed that I still care? That I've been faithful all these years, while you seemed to have moved on?” His questions stung her, but she refused to step down from her need to get him out. No, he hadn't changed either. He still infuriated her as he had four years ago.

“You call yourself faithful, yet you left me alone to deal with everything by myself.” He didn't know what she meant by everything. He'd left her with money, with a good job and a huge mansion that she still lived in. He thought about the life he gave her before he left and saw nothing but good fortune.

“You told me to leave!” he argued, trying not to get upset. Not yet. He didn't want to ruin what he wanted to be a perfect reunion. “You told me you wanted me to fix things. You wanted me to help him, to save him. And to rid myself of my family issues. But I guess you've have four years to be bitter and blame me for everything.”

“Bitter?” she hissed vehemently. “I am many things, but bitter isn't one of them.” She paused as the clock on the far wall chimed nine o'clock, time for her to ready herself for bed. “I have ever right to blame you,” she snapped back once the clock stopped. Tears began to form in the corner of her eyes and she willed them away. She refused to break down in front of him. She wanted to show that he didn't have power over her anymore.

“Listen to yourself and what you're saying to me. You sound awfully bitter to me,” he retorted. “And as for blame, I left and I'll be the first to admit it. But we agreed on it before I left and even then I was hesitant to leave you. I've thought about you every day since, wondering what you look like, if you cut your hair or bought a new pair of shoes. If you stayed up at night, staring at the ceiling from your bed as I did.”

She couldn't hold back the river of water any longer. He'd broken her heart four years ago and it had finally begun to heal. It felt like he was pouring rubbing alcohol on the wound now, forcing her to never get over him and the pain. She choked on a sob, but batted away his hand as he stepped closer to brush away her tears as he always did. “Of course I stared at the ceiling. I couldn't sleep for nights until my roommates, my best friends, forced a sleeping potion down my throat. And even then I fought to stay awake, because every night I waited to see if you would come back. I spent three years waiting for you to come back. And then they forced me to move on because they feared for my sanity and for my health.”

He felt torn for her and her emotions. He wanted to be angry, to hit her for abandoning him. And at the same time he wished to draw her close and never let her escape. “I waited and waited, but you never came,” she accused, wiping away her own tears. “I screamed and screamed, but you never heard. I cried and cried, but you never wiped the tears away, or held me and told me everything would be alright.”

“Well I'm here now,” he whispered, leaning in a little closer to her.

She staggered back, away from him. “Oh no you don't,” she protested. “You can't just come back as if nothing's happened. I've finally gotten over you and you can't come parading in and screw up everything I've built since you've been gone.” Yet, even as they continued to bicker, she felt her defiance growing weak. It had been so long since he'd last touched her and she yearned to remember how it felt.

He felt the same exact way as she did, even though they didn't know. He found their argument stupid and unimportant. “I left you, you've established that. And I've come back now, whether you like it or not. So learn to deal with it, because this is my house as well.”

“You bastard,” she whispered. He thought he'd mistaken what she said, but she repeated it, in a louder voice. “You can't do this to me. You have no right to be here...”

“It's my fucking house, Weasley!” he yelled and she flinched noticeably. He'd slammed his fist into the doorframe, only inches from her face. Now he was closer than he'd been since he'd left before, and she was realizing that he could still kindle that fire in the low of her belly.

She didn't want to correct him. She didn't have the heart to tell him that she wasn't a Weasley anymore. That when she'd told him she'd moved on, she meant she'd gotten married to the blonde in the pictures. And, although it was a loveless marriage, it kept her from being lonely at night, which was when she was the most vulnerable to memories of the man now standing in front of her. “Don't raise your voice,” she told him softly, afraid to command him to do anything. She also didn't want to tell him the reason that he couldn't shout was because she'd finally gotten her daughter to slept and she didn't want him to awaken her.

“We will resolve nothing with our petty arguments,” he conceded, stepping closer to her. “And I didn't risk my life coming here just to argue with you for hours upon hours.” He reached out and brushed some of her unruly red hair out of her face. His hand stayed on her check as he gently brushed his fingertips against her soft skin. “I know you haven't truly moved on, no matter how much you may protest otherwise.”

Ginny remembered the feel of him, the way he used to touch her and all the things they'd explored while still at Hogwarts. She thought back on her seventh year and how hard it had been to only see him on Hogsmeade weekends. She even remembered slipping out through the secret passages to spend the night in his flat there on some of her really stressful weekends. I want things to remain the way they were before everything changed. Before the war and before you left me to protect Harry from your father. Ginny looked straight into his eyes for the first time in years and it only made her cry more.

“I know you're angry with me, and you have every right.” He gave in to her way, just so he could talk with her, to reason with her and to show her how stupid she was being for not allowing him to take her right against the wall behind her. “I can't change what's happened, or believe me, I would in a heartbeat. But I want to make things better between us, make them the way they were before I left.”

It was like he read her mind. Her weakness was an image of them the way they had been before the stupid decision for him to leave. She wanted to forget the past four years of her life and pretend that they were where they'd been before the war, but she knew she couldn't. Ginny might be able to imagine them the way they were before, but she couldn't let go of Brad, her husband who'd pulled her through the worst years of her life. And how would she explain things to Elizabeth, her beautiful daughter who wasn't old enough to understand another father figure in her life? No, she couldn't see herself giving up this new life just for a chance of redemption. She'd been broken once before and now she needed reassurance that he would never leave again.

“Ginny, I never meant to hurt you,” he whispered, desperation filling his voice. He knew she was slipping even further away from him and he just couldn't stand losing her again. Not to this Muggle way of life, not while she was still living in his home. “And I promise I'll never hurt you again. But I can't walk away from you this time, not even if I tried. It'll kill me, possibly both of us.”

The familiar feel of his fingers on her skin felt comforting and safe, but she couldn't ignore that he'd left her. And she'd moved on, she kept repeating to herself, to the best of her ability. Could she really give up her new life for the old one? She wasn't sure; unsure of everything since he'd reentered her life again only minutes ago, although it seemed like hours. “I...” she stumbled for the right words, or any words for that matter, to say to him. But his eyes bore right into her heart and soul, and nothing came to her mind.

“I still need you,” he confided in her, his other hand reaching for her side, but not completely sure if he should touch it. Oh, he wanted to so badly, but he wasn't sure how she'd react. “I can't ask you to forget about the past four years, but I can beg you to put them away and stay with me now.” It had been so long since they'd been together and he had a hard time remembering what she felt like when he was inside of her. He wanted to remember her, in every way possible. Now more than ever.

It's not that easy! she wanted to scream at him, but couldn't find the voice. If she admitted she was married, then it ruined the small hope that they could still have something, even if it wasn't as strong as it had been. Ginny reached up and smoothed the wrinkle in his forehead, the one he'd sustained from all the worry and chaos he had to deal with since he left her. The tears finally stopped falling, but the streaks still covered her face. Her fingers trembled as she touched him, remembered the last night they'd spent together, after they decided that he had to protect Harry at all costs. The night you got me pregnant, she thought to herself as he leaned in closer, trying to recall his familiar yet different scent. “You haven't changed,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut despite her plea with herself to remain in control of the situation.

“No,” he choked out, trying not to take advantage of the situation. He didn't want to do something stupid that he couldn't take back. At least not yet, at any rate.

“I... I kept it,” she whispered, leaning into him until her lips brushed against his neck. He thought he'd be the first one to make the actual mouth to skin contact, but she was the first to give into the temptation. She couldn't stand looking at him and seeing them together again. Not when she'd tried so hard to get over it. Yet, at the same time, she couldn't help but want to be swept away into him again.

He brushed her hair back away from her face and savored the familiar feel of her lips. He didn't want to ask her what she meant. He didn't want to say anything at all, because he was afraid she would realize she wasn't dreaming and she would stop. He wanted to let her take this wherever she wanted to. Her lips kissed his neck softly before she buried her head in his shoulder. She inhaled deeply, memories flooding back. Things she'd promised she'd never want to remember as she cried herself to sleep.

“I can't do this...” she sobbed onto his shoulder and he felt the wet tears on his bare skin. It pained him that it was possible he could cause this kind of reaction from his Ginny, but it happened and he couldn't stop it. She suddenly pulled away and tried to collect herself, wiping away the stray tears. “Brad will be returning home momentarily, so I think it would be best if you left.” In truth, her husband was on one of his week long “business” trips that she'd finally stopped asking him about. She couldn't bare the thought of what he might actually be doing on those so called trips of his.

“Ginny,” he whispered softly. “Stop fighting me, please.” He knew she was lying. He'd always known when she was lying. And he was tired of trying to pretend that he didn't mind.

“It's been too long,” she retorted, shaking her head. “I just can't...” He took the step between them, closing the distance and towering suddenly over her. He couldn't bare to hear her say that sentence one more time. If she did, he feared his heart would burst and leave him completely empty inside.

“We can, Ginny,” he told her, sounding more confident that he felt. He reached up and cupped the back of her neck, lifting her head to look up at him. “So stop saying you can't go through with this, because I know you Ginny. And I know that, sooner or later, you're going to come around. So stop pretending and just let it be.”

Ginny reached up and clutched his arm with her shaking hand. She wished she could push him away, but she just couldn't fight him anymore. He was, after all, a Malfoy. And Malfoys always got what they wanted. “Promise me,” she whispered, and he didn't have to ask `promise what' because he already knew. Had known for what seemed like his entire life.

“You know I will, Gin. I'm not going anywhere this time.” She saw the concern in his eyes and she willed herself to finally believe him. Who was she trying to kid? Herself? She'd never to be able to resist him. Anyone but him.

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