Draco's Dilemma

JanieB

Rating: R
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 6
Published: 06/02/2006
Last Updated: 10/02/2006
Status: completed

In case you’ve done a double take, yes this is me (She-Who-Is-Solid-Pumpkin) writing a Draco/Ginny story and I assure you you’re not seeing things. I’ve taken “my” Draco and Ginny from “Day by Day” and “Four Weddings & A Funeral” and moved them forward a few years – to a time and place where their paths unexpectedly cross once more and slowly but surely, Ginny discovers that Draco is just what she needs...or is he?

Chapters

1. Draco's Dilemma - Chapter One

2. Draco's Dilemma - Chapter Two

3. Draco's Dilemma - Chapter Three

4. Draco's Dilemma - Chapter Four

1. Draco's Dilemma - Chapter One

Dedication This one's for my favourite reviewer - a small distraction for you Timbo! Janie xoxo

Author's Note

If you've read “Day by Day” and/or “Four Weddings & A Funeral”, you should recognise “my” Draco and Ginny (although I've taken one or two extremely minor liberties with a couple of the “facts” from those stories - you hear that Tennant? *grins*).

I am actually not a Draco/Ginny shipper (I really am made of solid pumpkin!) but one of my lovely reviewers from “Day” and “Weddings” has a real soft spot for Draco and Ginny and suffered dreadfully on their behalf as I used them mercilessly in those other stories. (Gaby dear, I hope you enjoy this! You've waited a while for it after suffering so awfully during all the torture I put Draco and especially Ginny through in “Day by Day” and “Four Weddings”!)

So, while I feel a little traitorous writing this, here I am nevertheless, an avid and happily delusional Harry/Hermione shipper having a go at writing a Draco/Ginny story.

And just because she's wonderful and this story wouldn't be quite as polished without her ab fab expertise! - big waves and hugs to Kirsti (thank you, thank you, THANK YOU dear!!)

DRACO'S DILEMMA

By JanieB

Chapter One

`Your name, sir?'

`Draco Malfoy.'

Dead silence followed. He was used to that now and found it rather tiresome. He fixed the old, bearded wizard behind the counter with an icy grey stare.

`Is there a problem?'

`No, no, of course not,' said the man hastily, writing the name in the large, leather-bound hotel register, the scratching of his quill grating on Draco's nerves. Gods, every bloody member of the wizarding world knew his name it seemed. Ever since that day, ten years ago when - No! Stop! He wasn't going to think about that now. The past was in the past. Let it stay there, along with all the memories...

After carefully putting the quill back in its stand, the old man turned and reached up to the row of hooks fixed to the wall behind him on which hung the room keys; taking down a large, ornate, brass key, he handed it to Draco.

`Room 913, sir; it's on the ninth floor. Would you like help with your luggage?'

`No, thank you,' Draco replied shortly as he took the key and headed for the lift, his black silk robes billowing behind his tall, lithe frame. Five minutes later he dropped his expensive, dragon-hide travelling bag onto the large bed of his beautifully appointed suite which consisted of a bedroom, adjoining bathroom and large sitting room which led onto a balcony overlooking the city.

He walked into the sitting room, crossing it to throw open the large, high French windows onto the balcony before walking to the stone balustrade and leaning on it, gazing unseeingly out across the city.

He'd glanced at the grandfather clock in the far corner as he'd crossed the room to the balcony and noted it was ten in the morning. Damn! Another hour! Sixty minutes before she would be here… He continued to stare without seeing, wondering what he could do to pass the time more quickly. His whole body was tense with anticipation, feverish desire roaring through his veins, although his demeanour revealed none of this. She'd only been gone for a matter of days but it felt like a lifetime. In that short time, he'd come to know he'd never have been able to prepare himself for the extent to which he missed her.

He moved back to the bedroom and opened his bag, removing a framed photograph of a laughing woman with long, flowing red hair and bright brown eyes. The woman's image in the photograph threw her head back and laughed - the sound of that laughter supplied by his memory. Then she looked straight out at him, now with a warm, loving smile turning up the corners of her soft, full lips, her eyes glowing with an equal mix of love and desire. It had been taken by another - her laughter and smile had been for another - but she'd recently given it to him as a belated birthday gift. This treasured photograph was the last thing he looked at each night, the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes each morning.

He walked back into the sitting room and crossed to the bar where he opened a bottle of a very old, very expensive Ogden's Firewhiskey and poured himself a glass. He would never normally drink at this hour, but today…well, today was different. And today - now - he needed something to calm his nerves. As he held the glass up to the light, he smiled. Who would've thought? he mused. How could he ever have imagined things would turn out the way they had? No one could ever have known, or guessed…

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Ten years earlier he'd left England with both his spirit and his heart broken. His parents were dead - his father had killed his mother and Harry-freaking-Potter had killed his father. Despite the fact that his father deserved to die and he'd wanted to be the one to do it at the time, it hadn't turned out that way.

Thinking of his mother still caused him to feel a deep sadness. Lucius Malfoy had killed his wife, Narcissa; perhaps indirectly, but he was nevertheless responsible for her death. As always when he thought of his father, Draco got a tight, sharp feeling in his chest. His own father, who had publicly disowned him, dismissed him and disregarded him. His own father - who had planned to cold-bloodedly kill him and had said so in front of him. Aside from his memories of Ginevra from that time, he usually preferred to keep all the others locked away, unvisited.

He'd travelled around the world after the death of his parents, staying here and there for varying periods of time. Always, however, he stayed within the wizarding community; he still couldn't bring himself to associate with Muggles on a daily, social basis except when absolutely unavoidable.

His last move had been here, to Edinburgh, in Scotland. He'd been thinking that perhaps he'd like to settle here; he was sick of the constant travel, of having no roots and so he'd rented a well-cared-for country manor from an old, pure-blood wizard who'd been delighted that he, Draco, had also been in Slytherin at Hogwarts. The old wizard had wanted to move to London to be near his two children and their families and was more than happy to rent his mansion to Draco who, whilst not wanting to live in the city, didn't want to be too far from it or its conveniences, either.

`You'll need your own house-elf,' the old man had told him.

And so Draco had recalled Latro, the house-elf he'd inherited from his father. Just before leaving England, ten years earlier, Draco had sent Latro to be with Ginny but she'd refused to keep the frightened house-elf and had ordered him to go to Hogwarts where he'd remained until now. And now, he was once more reunited with his master and living at Magus Manor.

It had been during one of his regular trips to the city that Draco had encountered Ginny Weasley-Thomas for the first time in ten years.

He was in a highly regarded wizard bookshop just off the Royal Mile, the solemn and mysterious majesty that was Edinburgh Castle visible through the window. Draco hadn't been taking any notice of the constant tinkling of the bell over the door as witches and wizards came and went. He'd been standing in front of shelves which held “New Releases”, an open book resting on one splayed hand and his other resting on top, holding the pages flat as his eyes skimmed over them; it was the latest novel by one of his favourite authors, Blagden Aylward.

`Draco?'

The sound of his name, those two short syllables, spoken by that voice, had galvanised him, instantly rendering him immobile and incapable of thinking. He'd never doubted that the last time she'd spoken his name would be the last thing he'd ever hear her say; and yet, here she was…

“Are you all right?'

With this question, he'd managed to force his head to turn a few degrees to the left to look at her. And it was her. Ginevra. The woman he'd loved for longer than he cared to remember. The woman who'd married another man - who loved that other man. The woman who didn't love him.

He stared at her, unable to comprehend that she was here, that she was talking to him. All those feelings for her, about her, that he'd managed to push into a dormant corner of his heart, mind and soul, now exploded from their “prisons” and he felt every single suppressed emotion once again, as if it had just been yesterday…

As he gazed down at her, he once again felt the love, tenderness, curiosity, desire - the need to protect and shelter her and at the end of it all, the sheer, overwhelming lust for this woman that consumed his whole consciousness - and had done so since he'd come to know that she'd been possessed by the Dark Lord, Voldemort, when she was just eleven years old.

`Ginevra?' His voice was a soft, incredulous whisper.

`You're still the only person that calls me that,' she'd said with a far away look in her eyes.

I'm still the only person who loves you the way I do, he'd wanted to say. But he didn't. He noticed she looked sad and a little lost.

`Are you all right?' he'd asked, concerned.

She shrugged, a small, sad smile crossing her lips.

`Do you remember,' she asked softly, `that day at your father's house - the day he died…'

Draco closed his eyes, the pain from that day passing through him once again. `I'll never forget that day,' he whispered harshly.

She picked up a book from the shelf in front of them, idly turning it in her hands, not really looking at it, putting it back again before she spoke.

`That Death Eater that Harry sent away - telling him to warn his “friends” - that he'd kill any of them if he ever saw them - you remember him?'

`Oh yes, Travers. The Dark Lord used him as an executioner as did my father. He loved killing -' he hesitated as he saw the look on her face - a look of pain and deep sorrow coloured by anger.

`He killed my husband.'

As the last consonant faded from hearing, he gasped, realising suddenly why she seemed so sad.

`Dear Merlin! When?' He snapped shut the book he held and replaced it on the shelf, turning to face her and taking her soft, unmoving fingers in his hands.

The shop owner glanced over at them, wondering at the tall, blonde, severe looking wizard in the expensive black silk robes towering over the striking, red-headed witch in black jeans and a tailored emerald green shirt - smart and attractive, perhaps, but Muggle clothing nonetheless, something he didn't approve of. Despite this, he couldn't help but admire her slender figure or her wonderful red-gold hair that tumbled down her back.

`A year ago. That Death Eater - Travers - he's been captured and sent to Azkaban.'

`As if that helps!' he cried impulsively.

Shaking her head as she looked down at their joined hands, Ginny shrugged. `I suppose it doesn't really, does it? But at least he didn't get a chance to commit the other murders he'd planned.'

`He'd planned other murders?'

Ginny finally met his gaze and nodded. `Oh yes,' she said softly, `he told the Ministry that after Dean he was going to kill me, Harry, Hermione, Neville, Priscilla - all the Weasleys -`she stopped suddenly as though a knife had cut through her thoughts.

`Go on,' he urged her, `tell me, please!'

Ginny drew in a breath as she fought against the overwhelming mixture of emotions that seemed to have been her constant companion for the past year.

`Well, aside from the fact that the thought of anyone even imagining they'd be able to kill Harry is just downright laughable and to think that Harry would allow anyone to hurt Hermione, of all people, is just plain hysterical - that Travers is an utter fool! He actually said he also wanted to kill you, too, for what you did to your father.'

`Me?' asked Draco blankly, taken by surprise.

`He said it would be taking revenge for your father.'

`But they've stopped him?'

She nodded.

`I'm sorry, Ginevra, really - I wouldn't wish for you to lose anyone you loved. Ever.'

She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears.

`But I have! He did it! He killed Dean… and I haven't known how to go on without him…'

The desolation and heartbreak in her eyes and voice tore at his heart. Draco dropped her hands and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. He'd comforted her once before on that terrible day in Malfoy Mansion.

`I'm so sorry, my love, so sorry, I wish I could put your life back together for you - more than anything I wish I could do that…'

Despite having grieved for almost a year, Ginny found that Draco's unconditional sympathy and desire for her well-being seemed to release something inside her; she cried while his embrace remained constant, his consolatory murmurs soothing her. Somehow she knew that he would hold her forever if that's what she needed.

When she did stop crying he'd let her go, his hands resting gently on her shoulders while she wiped her eyes with the linen handkerchief he'd given her.

`I'm sorry - I just can't seem to help myself sometimes.'

`Ginevra,' Draco's fingers tightened their grip on her shoulders, `nothing has changed for me. If you ever need to talk, or cry - anything - I will always be here for you.'

Ginny gazed up at him, her hands clasped in front of her. She felt far removed from the young woman who had said goodbye to this man all those years ago. She'd thought at the time she'd never see him again - she'd had no desire to.

For the past year, she'd felt like a small ship lost at sea, tossed and thrown about at the whim of the waves with no control over her own destiny. Encouraged by her friends and family, she'd begun to travel, writing about her experiences in a weekly column. Her boss, Bill Quillson, had been more than happy for her to do this as had the Editor-in-Chief of Witch Weekly, Ida Wordsmith. Initially Ginny been afraid to set off alone, but after a month, she found it was almost restful.

Draco's voice broke into her reverie.

`Come, we'll have lunch together. You can tell me everything.'

She nodded, slipping her arm through his as they left. The owner of the bookstore stared curiously after them; they both seemed familiar, somehow…

Twenty minutes later they were seated at a quiet table in an exclusive wizard restaurant, sipping an expensive red wine.

`Tell me,' he said. And she did. She told him how she'd arrived home from work on that dreadful Friday night a year past and found Dean dead in their living room. She'd come home late because she'd stayed back to meet a deadline and Dean had Flooed to tell her he'd prepared a special dinner for them. Her memory of the few days that followed was sparse and piecemeal. The fact that Dean was dead - murdered by a wizard or witch using the Unforgivable Avada Kedavra Curse - seemed to be the only things her memory retained. There were other vague memories of all her family and friends being there - she'd not been alone for a minute once they all knew, but she'd never been back to the flat she'd shared with Dean since that night. She'd lived with Harry and Hermione during the week, staying weekends at the Burrow.

Within weeks of Dean's death, the wizard - the Death Eater - who had murdered him had been captured. Ron and Harry had been with the Hit Wizards and Aurors who found him. Ginny had seen him only once, when he'd been sentenced to life in Azkaban with a unanimous decision by the Wizengamot under the guidance of Albus Dumbledore.

After being given leave from her job immediately following Dean's death, time that passed in a haze of pain and loss; she eventually returned to work but felt like an automaton. While she smiled, she felt no joy. While she thought and wrote, she felt no satisfaction. While she spent time with her friends, she felt no sense of care or joy. She was numb, and it had only been after she'd begun travelling that she felt as though she was regaining some part of herself, some sense of life.

Strangely enough, Draco was probably exactly the right person for her to speak to as he well knew the pain of loss, the suffering and the grief that followed. The guilt, too.

Ginny said little of it, but Draco knew she hid a kernel of guilt deep inside. He knew, because he hid the same sort of guilt. The “what if” guilt and the “if only” guilt. The “why didn't I do this” or “why didn't I know that” guilt.

He could empathise with her as no one else she knew could.

And what's more, he wanted to empathise with her. She was the most important thing in the world to him and he seized this chance to help her, to be with her.

After that first lunch, they saw each other every day. Draco, having basically been at a loose end for the past decade, now dedicated himself entirely to Ginny.

Ginny, so desperately in need of the unconditional love and understanding that Draco was giving her in such generous proportions, healed and blossomed within the warmth of his caring devotion.

And in the face of his dedicated, loving devotion she dismissed the doubts that did their best to surface. Her enormous need made her look past what she'd previously thought of him - she dwelt only on how he was now helping her, supporting her. Loving her.

It is a rare woman in such a vulnerable condition that can resist the irresistible: a man who loves you, who devotes himself entirely to you and your well being, to your happiness and needs and is happiest when you're happy. Irresistible indeed.

Ginny came to depend on Draco more and more: she leaned on him and he happily supported her, revelling in doing so. But still his first concern, as always, was her happiness. She'd been in Edinburgh for nearly two months and she'd seen Draco every day. He never allowed himself to show his indifference to news of her family and friends because he knew they were important to her and so he came to know that Harry and Hermione now had two children, a daughter and a son, that Ron and Luna had twin boys (not named Fred Jnr and George Jnr despite their uncles' vigorous campaigning) and that Neville and Priscilla had three children (two boys, one girl) and one on the way. Draco had inquired gently as to why she hadn't had any children. Ginny told him she'd simply kept putting it off because she loved her job and she loved having her husband to herself, that the years had flown by without them even realising it. They'd enjoyed the children of their families and friends and had just smiled and replied “some day” if asked when they were going to have their own.

As the days slipped by, Ginny gradually came to realise that Draco made her feel happier than she could remember being since Dean had died; she felt lighter in spirit and finally capable of facing life without Dean. Draco also gave her the gift of a renewed passion for living. And because she had always been a passionate woman, their relationship began to alter, very subtly, much to Draco's delight.

It began the night he took her out for dinner to celebrate her birthday; a typically cool August night despite the season.

`At least it's not raining,' smiled Ginny as they entered the exclusive wizard restaurant they regularly frequented for lunch.

`Och aye, and it usually is this time of year,' remarked the head waiter, bowing slightly. `Evening, sir.'

`Good evening,' replied Draco, smiling, as he often did these days.

The head waiter led them to their table himself and when told they were celebrating Ginny's birthday he insisted on giving them a bottle of the restaurant's finest champagne.

Once their glasses were full, Draco lifted his in a toast.

`To you, Ginevra, on your birthday,' he said, `and to happier times ahead.'

Ginny touched her glass to his. `Thank you,' she said softly, smiling, wondering at the warm, close atmosphere that seemed to be surrounding them. Perhaps it was because it was night time; usually by now they would have parted for the day. There was something infinitely more intimate about darkness…and sitting at one of the best tables in an exclusive restaurant, sharing dinner with…a friend.

`You look even more beautiful than usual tonight,' he told her, his grey eyes glowing with appreciation.

`You picked the perfect dress, thank you - not something many men could do.'

A box had arrived at her hotel room that morning, the attached card containing handwritten birthday wishes for her from Draco. It was a beautiful, knee length silk dress in the palest mint green with long, fitted sleeves; it clung to every curve, the deep, v-shaped neckline revealing a glimpse of the creamy swell of her breasts.

`Here's another surprise,' he said, taking from his robes a small package wrapped in silver paper and holding it out to her.

With a slight frown Ginny took it. `Draco, the dress was more than enough,' she admonished him.

`This goes with the dress - they complement each other. They're meant to go together. I didn't send it with your dress because I wanted to see your face when you opened it.'

She gave him a small smile of reproval as she removed the silver wrapping from the long, slender package to reveal a jeweller's box, inside of which nestled a stunning, white gold necklace with a sparkling, pear-shaped emerald glinting against the white velvet lining.

Ginny gasped softly; it was stunning and she could only stare at Draco as he rose smoothly to his feet, taking the box from her unresisting grasp and removing the necklace from its velvet bed. He stepped behind her, reaching over her shoulder to put the box back on the table, the necklace dangling from his hand. The beautiful emerald caught the light of the candles that floated above their table and Ginny sat perfectly still as he draped the necklace around her neck before doing up the clasp. The feel of his fingers, cool against her warm skin, causing her to shiver slightly.

As he took his seat once more, Ginny's hand instinctively lifted and she looked down at her fingers as they caressed the glowing stone.

`It's almost as beautiful as you,' Draco said softly as he gazed lovingly at her.

She lifted her eyes to meet his and what she saw there made her heart constrict.

I have to believe he really loves me, she thought. I suppose I did believe him in the past when he's said it, but now - now it seems more real, for some reason. And now that I'm alone - or am I supposed to think of myself as “free”? - no, I don't feel free. But now, now I no longer feel alone, either.

`Draco?'

`Yes, Ginevra?'

She faltered for a second then took a deep breath, her gaze dropping once more to the green gem she was still fondling with her fingers.

`Do you still love me?' Despite having seen it in his eyes, she needed to hear him say it. She realised she missed being told she was loved. By a man. She missed a lot of things. The sound and smell of a man - a man's presence … the feel of a man, the touch of a man - she caught herself then; it wouldn't do to reminisce too much.

The focus of her gaze moved beyond the emerald to Draco's hands which were lightly clasped as they rested on the table. As she finished speaking, she watched his hands as they separated, each becoming a clenched fist, the knuckles almost as white as the linen tablecloth on which they rested.

`Are you playing with me, Ginevra?'

At the harsh sound of his voice, her eyes flew to his face.

`Oh, no!' she whispered. `I just - I needed, I mean I wanted to hear - I'm sorry…' Her fingers left the necklace and her eyes followed them as they moved to her lap, twisting together.

There was silence for a long moment.

`No, I'm sorry,' she heard him say. You want me to say it? he thought, You want to hear it? You need to hear it? As I do, my love…

`Yes, Ginevra, I still love you. I've never stopped since the day I started. Whatever happens, I'll always love you.'

Ginny's hands become immediately still in her lap and she closed her eyes, a plethora of new emotions sweeping through her.

He sensed she was feeling overwhelmed and his instincts led him to lighten the moment, move away for the time being from the deep pool of emotion they were skirting.

`And despite loving you to distraction, beautiful lady, I still need to eat. I'm starving. You?'

Grateful for his understanding, Ginny smiled up at him and nodded, picking up her glass of champagne and taking a sip.

`Let's peruse the menu, then,' he said, smiling back at her as he picked up the leather bound parchment that contained the evening's offerings.

They passed the evening as they'd passed all the days behind them - in warm, friendly, comfortable talk. At the end of the evening, when Draco escorted her back to her hotel room, they stood outside it in the flickering candlelight from the wall sconces. Ginny stood with her back to the door, her evening bag clutched between her hands. Draco stood in front of her, close, but not too close.

`Thank you for everything - I've had a wonderful night, a lovely birthday,' she told him, remembering the owls that had arrived that morning bearing gifts and wishes from her family and friends.

`I'm glad I could help make it so,' he told her. Gods how he wanted to kiss her! Even just hold her. Touch her. His eyes swept over her from head to toe as she glanced down after speaking. Do you know what you do to me? he wondered. Do you have any idea how much I want you? How much I ache for you - for your smallest smile, your lightest touch…

He was caught unawares when she lifted one slender hand to rest on his shoulder as she stretched up, tilting her head to kiss him on the cheek. It was all he could do not to throw his arms around her, pull her to him and kiss her properly.

`I'm glad you enjoyed it,' he told her, his voice not revealing his secret strain. `I'm staying in town tonight - here - why don't we meet for breakfast?'

Ginny nodded as she pulled her key from her bag.

`Eight o'clock?' she said as she inserted the ornate key in the lock and slipped into her room.

`Sharp,' he smiled before leaving, Ginny shutting the door softly behind her.

Leaning back against the door and whispering, `Lumos”, Ginny couldn't help but smile. She realised this was the happiest she'd felt since before Dean had died. Yet she was torn. Torn between the agony of knowing that all her family and friends would hate the fact she was seeing Draco Malfoy, and between enjoying the unexpected happiness he'd brought to her life.

It was that night, the night of her birthday, when she admitted to herself that she would be staying here in Edinburgh for as long as Draco was here. She'd come to rely on him and his support - to need him. And she wasn't about to walk away from the first bit of happiness she'd had since she'd lost her husband.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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2. Draco's Dilemma - Chapter Two

Author's Note

Thank you Kirsti! (You can't imagine what that poor girl's been through to get this chapter to me!) *Blows kisses of gratitude*

Continuing the distraction Timbo! *Hugs*

Hi Gaby! Can't wait for YOUR review sweetie!

DRACO'S DILEMMA

By JanieB

Chapter Two

After the night of that first dinner together, they progressed from just having morning or afternoon tea and lunch to having dinner together. And they also began having breakfast together every weekend. At first, dinner was one or two nights a week but it quickly progressed to a pattern of dinner most nights. And breakfast most mornings. And lunch every day.

At one of those lunches, a couple of weeks after Ginny's birthday, Draco tentatively suggested she should move to Magus Mansion. She would have her own suite of rooms, be free to come and go as and when she pleased and her boss would no longer have to pay for her room at the hotel, especially since she hadn't been sending back any articles for a number of weeks now.

After a week of thinking it over - knowing she wouldn't tell anyone “back home” what she was doing - she decided she would accept Draco's offer. If the worst came to worst, she could easily move back to the hotel. When she tried to analyse her reasons for accepting his offer, she shied away from any thoughts except those of a practical nature: She would be more comfortable and her boss wouldn't have to pay for it. She would be in the country again, which she'd always preferred to the city. She'd have peace and quiet to write each and every day - all day if she needed it.

The fact that she would be able to, if she so desired, share every meal with Draco, see him whenever she wanted, had nothing to do with it - at least that's what she told herself. And the fact that she didn't feel she could tell anyone of her arrangement - well, she simply didn't dwell on that either. She was lost in a world that contained only her and Draco. And his love for her - love that soothed her hurting heart.

It was over their daily lunch a week later that she told him she would be happy to move into Magus Mansion and thanked him for his offer.

She had no idea that her few simple words of acceptance had the most extraordinary effect on the man to whom they were addressed. While he appeared to be calmly pleased at her decision and began immediately to talk of the arrangements necessary for her move, he gave no indication of the triumphant, tumultuous joy that was blazing within him. For it was when she accepted his offer that he knew - knew as surely as his name was Draco Malfoy - that she would eventually be his. It would be a long, slow, dance, but it would bring them both to the same place - and he was prepared to be as patient as necessary to achieve his goal. He would have her. She would be his. As he'd always been hers.

Draco trod carefully once Ginny was installed in Magus Mansion. Despite his overwhelming desire to be with her every minute of every day, he forced himself to allow her all the space she needed and wanted.

Once she'd moved in, delighting in the suite of rooms that were hers, she spent the first week settling in, unpacking and familiarising herself with the house and grounds. She'd been shocked the first time she'd come across Latro, Draco's house elf, but the little elf was so beside himself with joy at seeing her, she didn't have the heart to turn her back on him. Over the next few weeks, she realised the memories that Latro initially brought forth were being replaced with the memories of here and now. Eventually, she was able to greet him and not think of that other mansion and that other Malfoy.

She and Draco found a rhythm in their lives that they maintained and all the while the bonds of intimacy were imperceptibly tightening. Draco was joyously aware of this; Ginny blissfully ignorant of the silken threads.

On the September morning that Ginny sent an owl off to Hermione with a birthday gift, Draco told her he was arranging a special dinner, an “anniversary dinner”, for that night.

`Which anniversary is that?' asked Ginny as she watched the diminishing speck that was the owl carrying Hermione's card and gift. The same owl that had taken Harry's birthday present less than eight weeks earlier.

`It's three months since we bumped into each other in Edinburgh and you just missed my birthday so I thought we could celebrate both those things. What do you think?'

Ginny had laughed. A real laugh which made Draco's heart sing when she'd enthusiastically told him, `Yes! I think that's a wonderful idea!'

Latro spent the whole day preparing their “anniversary” dinner, humming happily to himself as he did so. Ginny popped her head into the kitchen any number of times to ask if he'd like some help but the little house-elf firmly stood his ground. `No, Mistress, Latro truly needs no help but thank you, Mistress for offering. Latro is very happily busy alone.'

The formal dining room of Magus Manor was too large for a dinner for two, so Latro had set a small, round table in front of the fire in the smaller of the two sitting rooms which had grown to be their favourite room.

Draco had been dressed and ready for some time, impatient for the night to begin. He'd instructed Latro to have dinner ready at seven thirty and so as the clocked at last chimed a quarter past seven, he knocked on Ginny's door.

`Come in!'

As he opened the door, he was very aware that this would be the first time he'd entered these rooms since Ginny had moved in.

He stopped just inside the door, watching as Ginny took something from her bedside drawer, closing it again before walking towards him. In her outstretched hand she held the emerald necklace he'd given to her for her birthday.

`Would you put it on for me, please?' she asked, smiling up at him.

Draco smiled back and nodded as he took the necklace, Ginny turning her back to him so that he could place it around her neck; she lifted her hair so that he could do up the clasp. She was wearing the dress Draco had given her for her birthday as well. As Ginny shook her hair back into place, he offered his arm, still smiling as she took it and they walked out of her room, down the stairs and across the entrance hall to the small sitting room.

Latro took great delight in serving the meal he'd prepared for them, while Ginny and Draco thoroughly enjoyed it. The house-elf had gone to great pains, even conjuring soft music which seemed to be coming from everywhere - and nowhere in particular, at the same time. When they'd finished and Latro had cleared the table save for two glasses of red wine, each still half full, Ginny called Latro to her and whispered something to him. He beamed at her, his large eyes glowing as he nodded his head so vigorously his ears flapped before he scampered from the room.

`What was that all about?' asked Draco, amused.

`You'll see in just a minute,' she told him.

And it was indeed only a minute before the still beaming house-elf returned, carrying a wrapped package which he handed to Ginny before giving them each one last huge smile, bowing and leaving them alone.

Ginny held the flat package out to Draco who took it, giving her a quizzical look.

Leaning on the table, Ginny smiled. `It's nothing much - a sort of belated birthday present. I couldn't think what to get you since you already have everything. But I know you don't have one of these,' she finished mischievously, watching as Draco removed the white wrapping paper and white tissue paper. It was a framed photograph.

Draco stared down at the laughing woman in the photograph. It was Ginny. Without taking his eyes off it, he said softly, `Thank you, Ginevra. It's beautiful.'

`It was the last photo Dean took of me before he died…'

On hearing the sad note in her voice, his eyes flashed to hers; he could see unshed tears glistening there. He reached across the table with his free hand and took one of hers, squeezing gently.

`Thank you. It means the world to me. You couldn't have given me a better present.' But how he wished she hadn't told him Dean had taken it. He didn't like to think about him at all.

Ginny smiled. `I'm glad you like it,' she replied softly, not really sure why she'd told him Dean had taken it but like many other little stray thoughts, she pushed it to the back of her mind.

Draco set the photo on the table, his heart skipping a beat at the look on Ginny's face in the photo. Her image laughed, throwing back her head briefly then looking straight ahead, obviously at the photographer. A beautiful smile curved her lips; the light of love and desire shone in her eyes.

I'd die a happy man if she looked at me like that just once, he thought to himself.

The strains of a soft waltz began to drift lyrically through the air.

`Shall we dance?' Draco asked her, coming to his feet and holding out his hand to Ginny in one smooth movement.

Ginny laughed softly as she also rose, taking Draco's hand, his warm fingers closing around hers.

`I didn't know you could dance,' she told him as he gently wrapped his right arm around her waist, pulling her to him, her left hand coming to rest on his shoulder, the fingers of their free hands softly interlaced.

She saw a fleeting look of sadness cross his face - then it was gone. He gave her a slightly crooked smile as he told her that his mother had insisted on private lessons for many years when he was young; she believed it an absolute necessity for someone of his station in life to be able to dance properly.

`Well, it's certainly come in handy at last' joked Ginny, `I do so love dancing!' which made him finally appreciate those hours of lessons he'd previously always thought of as a waste of time.

They moved gracefully around the small room, Ginny finding it very easy to follow Draco, resurrecting memories of dancing with Seamus Finnigan at Ron and Luna's wedding all those years ago. When the last notes died away and their feet were still once more, they stood unmoving, looking at each other as though caught in a spell that had been woven by the music and their dancing. Then wordlessly Draco released her hand, his fingers moving to her face, his palm curving around her cheek.

His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might explode out of his chest. She was looking up at him expectantly, her lips slightly parted. He slowly dropped his head; he was going to kiss her - nothing in the world could stop him now. As their lips met, it caused his whole body to ignite with such an intensity of passion he hoped desperately she wouldn't be frightened by it because surely she could sense it. The last time she'd kissed him had been by way of goodbye, springing from her pity and compassion for him. Nevertheless, he had savoured the memory of that kiss because it had been freely given. The memory of it was now permanently and blindingly eclipsed by this kiss. This wasn't a kiss born of pity or gratitude - there was no compassion in this kiss. It was the kiss of a woman who wanted him. Whether or not she loved him, whether or not she ever would, he didn't know or care right now - he simply didn't want this moment to end.

He tightened his arm around her, his other hand now grasping the back of her neck, agonisingly aware of her body pressed against his as their tongues locked in a hungry dance. Ginny moaned softly as she instinctively moved her hips against him and Draco felt as though fire, not blood, was coursing through his veins. As their lips parted, both of them breathing heavily, they stared at each other; Draco found he was afraid to speak in case he broke the spell, terrified by the thought that she might run from him, waking from the dream that had been the last few months. Ginny could see the fear in his eyes and knew what was behind it.

Then he saw the slightest suggestion of a smile, watched mesmerised as the tip of her tongue ran lightly over lips. He felt her hands move from his shoulders as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Then he felt a violent eruption of joy blast through him as she pressed her lips to his once more, initiating a kiss even more passionate than their previous one.

Neither of them knew how long the owl had been tapping at the window, lost as they were in each other, but they did eventually hear it, turning to stare at it in a mutual daze. Draco moved first, walking over and opening the window. The owl held out its leg and waited for him to remove the scroll attached to it. As he did so, he noticed immediately it was addressed to Ginny. Inexplicably, his heart sank; he was sure that one way or another, it couldn't be good news.

He pulled the window shut as the owl flew off and turned, holding the small scroll out to her, her name visible in the firelight. Ginny took it, her eyes on Draco's, not on the parchment. She could see the flat look of disappointment in his eyes and tried to reassure him with a somewhat shaky smile.

He reached out his hand, his fingers gently caressing her face. `Read it,' he said softly, his voice still husky with passion, although the spell that had temporarily held them in thrall was now diminishing, leaving them both a little shaken.

She looked down at the parchment, recognising the writing. `It's from Hermione.'

After breaking the seal, Ginny unrolled the parchment and swiftly read the contents through twice. She kept her eyes on the parchment as she spoke, not wanting to see the look of frustration and regret she knew would be on Draco's face.

`Neville and Priscilla's baby's been born. A little girl, their second.' She glanced up at Draco, smiling. `They want me to be her godmother and Hermione's organising the christening. I'll have to go home for a few days.'

At her words, Draco felt as though someone had taken hold of his heart inside his chest and squeezed, the pain was so intense. Merlin! Not now!

Ginny looked at him anxiously. `Are you all right?'

He remained silent, simply placing his fingers under her chin in a gentle caress, giving her a smile he managed to dredge up from somewhere.

`I'll be all right. It's only a few days.' His hand dropped to his side. I'll be in hell! And it will feel like a lifetime!

`The christening's this Sunday, the day after tomorrow, so I'll leave in the morning. I'll be back on Tuesday. I'll owl you.' He could hear his own disappointment at the interruption mirrored in Ginny's voice. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, afraid his voice would reveal his pain.

`Well, I'd better go to bed,' said Ginny resignedly, `it's late and I'll need to get an early start in the morning.'

She looked up at him, his heartbeat become wildly erratic as she lifted one hand and he felt her slim fingers curl around the nape of his neck, pulling gently. In response, he dropped his head down as Ginny lifted hers, kissing him softly on the lips. `Night,' she whispered. As she walked away, she looked back over her shoulder at him, a promise in her eyes.

`Good night, my love,' he whispered hoarsely.

He sat at the table by the fire for a long time after she'd left, sipping the last of his wine as he gazed at the photo of her. He came to realise a few things as he sat and thought. Not surprisingly, neither of them had considered, not even for a single second, that he might go with her. That was utterly out of the question and always would be. He knew she would not speak of him to any of her family or friends. Insecurities began to trickle through his mind, taking on larger and larger proportions and he knew he would live in dread until she returned. As doubts crowded in upon him, he wondered painfully if tonight would be the last time he'd kiss her…

TO BE CONTINUED…

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3. Draco's Dilemma - Chapter Three

Author's Note

Hmmmmm…nope! Can't think of anything really gripping to say this morning folks - just read and enjoy! Looking forward to hearing what you think, as always!

DRACO'S DILEMMA

By JanieB

Chapter Three

Draco had received Ginny's owl the previous night, telling him she'd Floo into the hotel at eleven on Tuesday morning. It was the same hotel she'd been staying at before moving to the Mansion. Her twin brothers, Fred and George, were visiting her later in the week for a few days, she explained, which is why she'd need to stay at the hotel. Apparently, they were interested in opening another of their shops in Edinburgh. Would he be able to meet her at the hotel on Tuesday morning?

He felt as though he'd moved out of darkness into the brightest light as he finished reading her letter, hastily sending a return owl assuring her he could meet her as requested (Anytime, anywhere! he'd thought deliriously) and had immediately packed a bag, hardly sleeping that night due to excitement, wanting only for the next day to dawn as quickly as possible.

And so here he was. Waiting for her.

Carrying his half drained glass of Firewhiskey, he returned to the balcony. She'd told him she'd booked adjoining rooms for herself and her brothers (who were due to arrive Thursday morning) on the fifth floor.

When Fred and George had inquired as to why they couldn't stay at Magus Mansion with her, Ginny had simply told them there wasn't room and since they had no reason to not to believe her, they accepted this. (The Weasleys knew Ginny had taken rooms at Magus Mansion - although Ginny had intimated to her family that the owner was a rather eccentric recluse and didn't welcome guests.)

Draco prowled the suite incessantly, going from the balcony, to the bedroom - where he looked at her photo - then back to the balcony…until at last, finally, the stately grandfather clock chimed eleven. He put his now empty glass back on the bar and stood watching the door, waiting. Despite the fact he was expecting it, he still jumped when he heard her knock.

He crossed quickly to the door, pausing for a heart-beat before pulling it open.

She stood there…smiling, her hair held back with a black Alice band, falling in luxurious red waves down her back.

She stood there…wearing very light make-up, her slim figure outlined in a fitted, cream jumper and black pants.

She stood there…stealing his heart all over again and causing him to suffer a stomach-twisting hunger for her.

`You're back.' He sounded as though he couldn't believe it, despite the evidence of his eyes.

Ginny laughed as she flung her arms around his neck, her soft lips finding his in a lingering kiss that swept away all the doubts he'd been nursing since she'd left. As he revelled in the sensations racing through his veins like quicksilver at the feel of her mouth on his, he felt as though the world suddenly burst apart only to immediately compress again so that it contained just the two of them and no one else.

Then as their lips parted, their breathing shallow and uneven, Ginny whispered breathlessly, `I can't believe how desperate I've been to see you again.'

Ginny had indeed woken that morning, surprised at the strength of her own feelings when she'd thought of being reunited with Draco once more. She was astounded at how delighted and happy she felt about it. But as usual, she didn't pursue these thoughts any further along the shadowed paths they inhabited…

Draco pulled her tightly to him, a deep moan, almost a growl, vibrating within his chest. She felt so good - so unbelievably good and he wanted her -Gods, he wanted her so much that it literally hurt! And today, finally, he knew he would have her. He felt a surge of exultant joy at the thought. His - finally!

`Ginevra, I love you,' he ground out, managing, despite the depth of his desire, to keep his voice fairly even.

`I know,' she said feverishly before kissing him again. As their lips clung hungrily together, he suddenly lifted her up, overcome by a paroxysm of love, need and lust, his hands tightly gripping her waist. Ginny instinctively wrapped her legs around him as she rose in the air, only barely aware of the sound of Draco kicking the door shut behind them.

Her reaction on seeing him had filled him with ecstatically renewed confidence. She did want him! And that thought alone was enough to breach his internal dam of insecurity and uncertainty, releasing a flood of ravenous desire.

`I want you now!' he told her roughly before kissing her again, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, loving the velvety feel of hers as it wound around his. It was as if they were taking up right where they'd left off when they'd been interrupted by the owl arriving - the owl that had taken her from him.

He walked, carrying her to the bedroom and when they reached the side of the bed, she let her feet slip to the floor while still kissing him, pressing herself against him. He was running his hands possessively from her shoulders, down over her back, into the dip of her waist, over her hips and down over her backside, gripping her tightly and pulling her against him, grinding himself into her.

`I want you, too,' she whispered against his lips and as those words wove their way into his consciousness, he thought it wasn't possible to feel happier than he did right now.

His hands moved up her body, fumbling for the bottom of her jumper and when they found it, he wrenched it up and off, flinging it away carelessly. Ginny leaned back, smiling seductively up at him as she unzipped her pants and pushed them off, kicking her shoes off at the same time.

Draco's eyes roamed hungrily over her as he hastily pulled his robes off, casting them aside in the same direction as her jumper. He was mesmerised by the sight of her in her lacy, pale pink bra and knickers, his fingers trembling so much when he tried to undo the buttons of his black, silk shirt that she took over for him, pushing it off his shoulders before starting on his pants, hastily undoing the buttons and zipper so that he could take them off together with his boxers, then kicking off his shoes. He felt a stab of satisfaction as her eyes widened at the sight of him.

His hands brushed over her bra and down to her knickers. `Take them off,' he ordered hoarsely, knowing he wouldn't be capable of doing it in his current state.

Keeping her eyes locked onto his, she reached around and undid her bra, letting it slip to the floor, then leant down pushed her knickers off before reaching up and sliding the Alice band off, running her fingers through her thick red locks, shaking them out.

`You're beautiful - perfect,' he rasped, his eyes devouring the sight before him as he reached for her, pulling her down to lay on the bed with him, a gasp escaping him at the feel of her naked body against his for the first time.

They ended with Ginny lying on her back, Draco laying beside her, propped up on his elbow, his head resting in his hand as his eyes travelled hungrily over the length of her body.

Her skin was as pale as his and as she ran her hand tentatively over the expanse of his lean, muscled chest, he lifted his hand and touched her face with something akin to reverence, his forefinger gliding along the delicate line of her cheekbone, down over her lips, following the line of her jaw from her chin, then down the smooth column of her neck, down until he was cupping the firm softness of her breast, a throaty moan escaping him at the exquisite feel of her hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

But he lingered there only a moment - he wanted to explore all of her this first time before taking her. Her skin felt like warm silk and he didn't think she'd ever looked more beautiful than she did in that moment, her glorious hair spread out on the pillow behind her like a golden red halo. So his hand continued it's seductive journey of exploration, running over her slightly concave stomach, skimming the slightly protruding hip bones and making her shiver. He'd never been so hard. Or so ready for someone. Was it possible to want someone this much without exploding? he wondered.

And then his fingers trailed down into the soft red curls, delving into the warmth of the soft, moist crevice beneath, searching gently but insistently for that small hardened nub - there! She convulsively raised her hips off the bed, a moan of longing drawn from her lips.

Holy Merlin's beard it was taking every ounce of self control he had not to roll on top of her this instant and plunge into her!

But he was determined to savour every possible moment, commit every sound and sensation to memory.

`You like that?' he whispered, his lips against her ear. He so desperately wanted to hear more of those deliciously wanton sounds she was making each time he touched her.

`Yes, oh yes!' she moaned, `Please -'

He couldn't stop himself, he kissed her then, cutting off her words, pushing his tongue into the velvet warmth of her mouth, his fingers now sliding into the hot slickness between her legs, his thumb moving rhythmically around and around her tiny hardened centre, her hips keeping pace with his movements.

He felt her arms around his neck, wallowing in the pleasurable sensations brought about by even that small gesture as her tongue desperately moved around and over his, the soft, sexy sounds of pleasure and longing she was making driving him crazy until he knew he was on the verge of losing control.

`Now, please,' he said thickly, as he moved on top of her, continuing to kiss her - her face, her neck, her mouth, murmuring her name, telling her he loved her over and over. As her legs wrapped around him, he felt her hand move down between them and wrap around his painfully swollen member, guiding him until he could feel the wet, warm softness of her. Then, with an incoherent growl, he thrust himself into her, unable to stop himself from pumping convulsively as pure ecstasy overtook him, aware only that she, too, was crying out in rapture - he heard his name - and then slowly, regretfully, a second - an eternity - later, the ecstasy receded, leaving them both limp, but satiated, their breathing broken and ragged.

Draco rolled onto his side to keep his weight off her, pulling her to him, kissing her face repeatedly as he told her over and over how much he loved her. She didn't say it back to him as he hoped desperately she would, but he thought he understood - that perhaps she'd feel it was a form of betrayal of her love for him. He told himself he could wait. As long as she was with him - that's all that mattered. Or so he thought…

********

The months passed and Draco revelled in a level of happiness he'd never know before and hadn't thought possible. Fred and George came and went (thankfully, for Draco, shelving the idea of a shop in Edinburgh for the time being). Ginny made regular monthly trips to visit her family and friends, all the while subtly discouraging them from visiting her by saying - truthfully - it was easier for her to come to them. She'd resigned her position at Witch Weekly, telling everyone she was going to write a book, living off the money from the sale of the flat she and Dean had shared. She did agree, at Bill Quillson's request, to do some work as a freelance reporter/writer for him when he needed her.

Ginny was still living at Magus Mansion, although now she and Draco shared a bedroom. Draco had never imagined that something as simple as the presence of one other person was all he needed to feel as content and happy as he did. Ginny, too, found peace and contentment and even happiness she'd never thought she'd find again after Dean's death.

The only cloud that appeared on the horizon of their private paradise was Draco's growing obsession with hearing Ginny say, “I love you”.

At first, Draco had gently inquired about her feelings for him, desperate to know if she'd come to love him. However, while Ginny thought it was perhaps possible she loved him, she wasn't entirely certain that she did. It wasn't anything she could put her finger on and truth be told, she didn't want to; she had no desire to analyse her feelings for Draco as that way lay many twisted paths she had no wish to walk. To her credit, she explained this to him and while part of him understood, he still craved those “three little words” from her. Without sense or reason, he simply wanted to hear them. It may have been possible that the more Ginny refused, the more obsessed he became, due in no small measure to his heritage; his father, after all, had been a controlling, obsessive man.

Sadly, Draco didn't seem able to fight his growing compulsion, a compulsion fed by the knowledge that she'd told him she loved. Him. The man she'd married. To his dismay, he found he was becoming increasingly jealous of a dead man. A man who had been given what he now wanted more than anything in the world: a declaration of love. Because she now lived with him, Draco felt she must love him, but that she just hadn't realised it or for some unknown reason, refused to see it. Even though Ginny made it clear she wanted to be with him, enjoyed being with him, needed to be with him - it wasn't enough. When they made love, which was frequently, he was left in no doubt as to the depth of her desire and passion for him. But she wouldn't tell him she loved him. And it was driving him crazy.

As the days slipped into weeks that passed into months, they had a number of blazing rows - all over Draco's obsessive desire to hear Ginny say “I love you”. Of course, each time they made up in the time-honoured way, always initiated by Draco because he couldn't bear fighting with her. Each time, Ginny forgave him because he was truly sorry.

Typically, he would wake in the morning, his arms around her and find himself smiling with pleasure at the feel of her naked body pressed up against his. He'd kiss her gently as he caressed her, murmuring, `I love you,' over and over; he'd take his time, allowing her passion to rise slowly to equal his which seemed to be always bubbling just below the surface. She loved being kissed anywhere and everywhere and he found he never tired of fulfilling her desire, proud of his ability to satisfy her. When she reached the point of practically begging him to enter her, the desperate longing in her voice would send his self-control out the window and he would do as she asked, losing himself in his unending passion for her. Afterwards, as she lay in his arms, the words would come, spoken as though he had no control over his own voice or what he said.

Sometimes he would ask, `Do you love me?' Or he'd beg her to tell him she loved him. `Please, Ginevra, even if you don't mean it yet, please just say that you love me!' Other times, hating himself as the words came out, he would say, `You told him you loved him, why can't you tell me?' Internally, he cringed, because he knew it was the last thing she wanted to hear, knew it usually meant either another argument or suffering her cold silence for the rest of the day.

This time, however, she kissed him softly, saying, `I want you and I need you, Draco. I'm here, with you. Isn't that enough for now?'

Despite knowing that she'd refrained from showing any anger she felt and that she'd made an effort to be loving and sweet with her answer, his throat felt constricted with a paralysing mixture of shame and resentment and he couldn't bring himself to reply. His silence was her answer: It wasn't enough.

He worshipped her and he knew he was allowing his obsessive tendencies towards her far too much freedom, but he was helpless in the face of his feelings for her. He did his utmost to contain his burning need to hear her say she loved him and at first he usually succeeded; but he succeeded less and less as time passed.

And so, a year after they'd met in the bookstore, here he sat, staring into the fire, his dinner untouched.

Ginny was visiting her parents for the weekend and he was alone, drowning in an awful, grey dread. She'd taken to telling him almost every day that his repeated demands for her to tell him she loved him and his incessant questioning (“do you love me?”) were becoming increasingly irritating and tiresome and that he had to stop. She didn't say “or else”, but he heard those words in the tone of her voice, nonetheless.

The previous night, before she'd left, he'd been powerless to prevent himself from assuring her once more that it didn't matter if she didn't mean it, he just wanted to hear her say it before she left. He said this as he was holding her, her arms wrapped around his waist as they kissed goodbye.

She'd glared up at him and pulled away, turning and picking up her small suitcase. She stood there, still glaring at him, ready to Disapparate.

`Draco, I never want to hear you ask me about this again. I don't want to discuss it again. Not ever.' Her voice was cold and flat, sending cold terror through him.

And then she'd gone.

His heart had shrivelled in his chest; he'd driven her away and as he sat, gazing into the fire, he was in agony as he wondered whether she'd come back.

********

He woke the next morning to the sounds of Latro attempting to clean up the small sitting room as quietly as he could. Draco realised he'd fallen asleep in front of the fire - which now consisted of nothing more than cold, dismal ashes. His wine glass was sitting on the table, empty, and he felt very stiff as he slowly pushed himself upright in the chair.

All he could think of was that it was only Saturday, that Ginevra wouldn't be home until late tomorrow and the interval of time between seemed to stretch before him like a desert of bleak, unending emptiness. As it was, the day passed in a tortuously slow parade of self-recrimination: Why the hell couldn't he keep his damned mouth shut and just leave well enough alone?! Why did he seem to possess such a mindlessly voracious need for her to tell him she loved him? What in the name of Merlin did it matter?! He must learn to accept her as she was - to accept whatever she gave him - the fact that she was living with him should be enough! He told himself he was a complete and utter fool to jeopardise what he had. It was as though his reasoning abilities were paralysed by some dreadful force within him, a force against which he had no weapons.

The next morning he once again woke in front of a cold fireplace, only this time in his - their! - bedroom. He was immediately startled by Latro scuttling about, obviously desperate to speak to him but afraid to wake him to do so.

He rubbed his face with one hand as he sat up and wearily asked Latro what it was he wanted to tell him.

`Oh, Master!' exclaimed Latro excitedly. `You are having a visitor, Master!'

Draco stiffened. `A visitor? Who?'

`It's being Miss Priscilla, Master!'

Draco shot to his feet. `Priscilla? Priscilla Longbottom?' Draco was stunned. He stared down at the house-elf, his voice rising almost to a shout, `She's here, now? Why?'

At the sound of his master's voice, Latro shrunk back into himself.

`Yes, Master. It's Miss Priscilla, Master - she are here to see you,' he whispered, all his excitement evaporating in the face of Draco's apparent anger.

`Where is she?'

`In the small sitting room, Master. I gaves her tea, Master, she is being very comfortable!'

Draco took a deep breath and instructed Latro to tell Priscilla he would be down in ten minutes. He felt a dreadful sense of foreboding. How did she know he was here? Why was she here?

********

Ten minutes later, he walked into the small sitting room, a faintly superior smile on his face as he greeted Priscilla. She was, after all, a half-blood and therefore inferior. But she was a very close friend of Ginevra's so he would be civil.

`Mrs Longbottom,' he said smoothly, nodding graciously at Priscilla as he took a seat on the opposite side of the small round table set before the fire place. Latro had placed upon it a tray with tea and crumpets.

Priscilla, Neville Longbottom's wife of ten years and mother of their four children, smiled nervously at the man she didn't think she'd ever have to think about again, let alone see.

`Mr Malfoy,' she said a little breathlessly, wondering at the formality, not knowing it stemmed from his awareness of being alone with a …Draco only just managed to stop himself from thinking of her in her presence as a Muggleborn half-blood…

`Draco, please,' he replied, attempting to breach the gulf felt only by him, picking up the teapot and pouring.

`Only if you call me Priscilla,' she replied quickly, eager to find a comfortable footing as was her way.

As he handed her a cup of tea (milk, no sugar), Draco's piercing grey eyes met Priscilla's lovely blue gaze.

`So, Priscilla, to what do I owe the proverbial honour of your visit?'

Priscilla took a sip of tea and placed her cup and saucer carefully back on the table before replying.

She looked across at Draco and sighed.

`Ginny.'

Draco felt set upon by a dozen different emotions. He was sure for a moment his heart stopped beating and his blood turned to ice in his veins. His stomach clenched into a tight, miserable ball and he began to imagine that Priscilla was going to tell him Ginny was never coming back. That she hated him. That she was dead. Or all three.

If so, his life was over. He'd ruined everything with his pathetic, obsessive declarations of love and greedy demands for her to say she loved him, even if she didn't. He felt his heart grow heavy as numerous outrageous and unlikely thoughts assailed him.

`Ginny has confided in me this weekend,' said Priscilla, ending his dismal reverie. `She stayed with us last night for our youngest's birthday, as you know - her god-daughter - and, well, she told me everything.' Priscilla unconsciously rubbed the back of her neck which was stiff from lack of sleep; she'd been up the whole night, talking with Ginny. `It was clear she was in desperate need of someone to talk to.'

Draco's head dropped back against the arm chair, his eyes closing as he took this in.

`She told you everything?' he whispered.

`Everything,' confirmed Priscilla, sounding far more confident than she felt in the imposing presence of this man.

Draco shuddered before opening his eyes and looking straight across at Priscilla.

`So, you're here about Ginevra. What precisely about Ginevra brings you here?'

It was this answer that he was dreading. He wanted to hear it. He didn't want to hear it. Yet he needed desperately to know it.

Priscilla, a soft, romantic-hearted woman, hadn't been able to refuse the desperate plea made to her by Ginny who had become one of her best friends over the years.

`Priscilla, I NEED him desperately - I WANT him so much it hurts - I can't even imagine living without him! But…I can't tell him I love him. I don't know why - I don't really care why, it's not important, at least not to me - just as long as he's there. But he asks me every day if I love him, every time we kiss or make love - and even just in conversation! I need him to STOP! He's driving me insane! Why can't he just let it be? Why can't he just be with me and accept it? I'm not sure I can stay with him if he doesn't stop. It's getting worse all the time and I've even started to think about leaving him.'

When Ginny had first told her of her relationship with Draco, Priscilla had been shocked beyond words. Her mind and heart had reeled with the knowledge that one of her very best and beloved friends had “taken up” with an old, hated enemy, regardless of any help he'd given the side of light. But, being who she was, Priscilla had stopped and thought about it, considered it - spent endless hours talking to Ginny about it until she was prepared to accept that perhaps this was truly what Ginny needed right now. Whether or not it would be what she needed for the rest of her life was irrelevant - she needed it now and she, Priscilla, wasn't about to deny it to her. After putting a blanket over an emotionally and physically exhausted Ginny as she lay on the couch, Priscilla decided, as dawn light crept across her living room, that she would speak to Draco herself - today. Of course, she hadn't told Ginny she was planning on doing so, well aware that Ginny wouldn't agree to it. She wasn't even sure she was doing the right thing by coming and talking to Draco. Still, for the sake of her friend she felt she had to try.

Priscilla held Draco's gaze as she answered, `Ginny doesn't know I'm here and you must never tell her I came. Agreed?'

Priscilla's beautiful blue eyes bored into his. He nodded.

`Ginevra's all that matters,' he told her, `I'll do whatever it takes.'

Priscilla studied him for a moment then nodded wordlessly as she considered his words.

`You are currently the most important thing in the world to her, Draco. Right now, she needs you - more than she's needed anyone since Dean's death. She wants to be with you - but she can't stay with you if you keep on - if you insist -'

At this point, Priscilla's voice faltered. It was much more difficult saying this to his face than she'd imagined. It couldn't be easy for him to know Ginny had imparted intimate details of their relationship to someone else. She took a deep breath. Here goes! she thought, steadying herself.

`She says you've become obsessed with her telling you she loves you. And that you've become jealous of Dean and their past relationship. Not a day goes by, she told me, that you don't ask her incessantly whether or not she loves you. She said she's thinking -' again, Priscilla found herself faltering.

`Go on,' whispered Draco, knowing what she was going to say, fear gripping his heart.

`She's thinking of leaving you.'

Draco dropped his head into his hands as impossible pain ripped through his body, a strangled sound torn from him.

`You need to stop,' said Priscilla gently.

`I know,' he whispered, his voice cracking, `I know.'

He lifted his head and looked across at Priscilla and she felt pity wash through her at the agony evident in his eyes.

`Tell her - tell her that I love her - and I will never again bring it up. I swear it, on my mother's grave.'

Draco's voice deepened ever further as he spoke and Priscilla shivered; she thought perhaps for a second she knew what it was that Ginny saw in this man, just for a second…

`I love her, Priscilla, more than I love my life. If she is not in my life, I don't have a life. I will do this - anything! - to ensure she stays with me. If she's not happy, I'm not happy - it wouldn't be possible for me to be happy if she wasn't.'

`You'll have to tell her yourself, Draco. She can't know I came to see you, remember?' she reminded him, her voice barely more than a whisper. `You must keep your promise not to tell her I was here!'

`I will,' he told her, his voice implacable with determination as his grey gaze rested on her. `Is she coming back?'

Priscilla nodded, `She was only thinking of leaving you, Draco, she isn't actually doing that.' Yet, thought Draco miserably. Priscilla continued, `By the way, Ginny won't be home until tomorrow night as she's staying one more night with us. She's gone back to the Burrow this morning which has given me the time to come and see you.' Priscilla glanced quickly at her watch. `Actually, she'll be back at our place in about an hour, so I have to be going.'

The one thing Priscilla omitted to tell him, because she didn't have the heart to do so, was that Ginny was finally beginning to voice her doubts about the reality of her relationship with Draco. She was beginning to realise that perhaps she wouldn't be able to live with the consequences of being with Draco. There was so much they would never be able to share as a couple - she would always be alone at family gatherings - she couldn't take him to her friends' homes, nor could they come to hers. There was already the danger that word of them being together could eventually make its way to someone who knew them as they'd been living together for over a year now and had become a regular sight in some parts of Edinburgh. Ginny wasn't sure she could face her parents if they found out Draco Malfoy was her lover. And yet, despite that, she wasn't sure she'd have the strength to turn her back on the happiness he'd brought her…

Draco couldn't sleep that night and what he did with those hours was instrumental in creating a dilemma that would come to repel and horrify him even as it fascinated him; his actions that night created a dilemma that would never cease to haunt him.

The following night, as he stood waiting in the small sitting room to which he knew Ginny would Floo or Apparate, Draco realised bitterly that perhaps he was, after all, his father's son. He wondered whether he'd be able to live with himself in the future. Yet, his exhaustion and self-revulsion evaporated at the sight of Ginny as she appeared in front of him with the accompanying crack of Apparition. They didn't speak at first, Ginny simply flying into his arms, Draco crushing her to him, kissing her so hard it made them both feel a little weak. They'd made love there and then on the large, soft rug before the fire place and it was later, as they lay there, their arms and legs entwined, Ginny asleep in his arms, he felt he was capable of doing anything to keep her, that any price would be worth it, regardless of the consequences.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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4. Draco's Dilemma - Chapter Four

Author's Note

FYI: The italicised opening paragraph of this chapter is a summary of relevant information from Chapter Five of “Four Weddings & A Funeral” - just in case you're interested in more background on the “roses” you're going to read about in this chapter, all three of which are explained fully in that chapter.

Special hellos to Kirsti, Timbo and Gaby - *hugs* to you all! xoxo

So here it is - the final chapter! Enjoy…

DRACO'S DILEMMA

By JanieB

Chapter Four

When Lucius Malfoy fell in love with Narcissa Black, he wasn't prepared to risk rejection. He wanted her complete and utter devotion, her undying love and her unquestioning acceptance. And to ensure he had these, he'd created three, exquisite glass roses. Each carried a charm, each of those charms building upon the other to bind Narcissa to him, heart, mind and soul. He'd given her the first one shortly after they met; it carried the Evinco Charm. The second, with the Concupisco Charm, he gave her as an engagement present and the third rose, carrying the Teneo Charm, was one of his wedding gifts to her. Many years later his son would find these roses and pass on two of them to the woman he'd come to love, Ginny Weasley. He'd been unaware of the power of the charms…or of the awful suffering they would cause her; when he found out what he'd done, however unwittingly, Draco had been devastated beyond measure…

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

In Draco Malfoy's study was a large, beautifully carved desk that had once belonged to his father. It was the one thing he'd taken from Malfoy Manor before it had been razed to the ground. It contained a small, secret drawer, lined with velvet and guarded by a number of spells and enchantments. Draco, although he'd always known of it, had never used it. That is, until after Priscilla Longbottom's visit. During that long night before Ginny came home…the night he hadn't slept…the night he began to make it…

He couldn't recall later how it came to him or why he'd thought of that drawer and it's contents, but he did remember that as midnight struck, marked by the mournful chiming of the entrance hall clock, he'd found himself sitting at his desk, saying the words that would reveal and open the drawer. He'd sat and looked at the folded parchment without touching it at first, fighting against his fierce longing to use the knowledge it contained.

It was a fight he lost - his enemy, an overwhelming desperation and fear - proving to be stronger than his own will that night.

As a single, melancholy chime echoed in the hall an hour later, he'd reached out and picked up the parchment he'd first seen and read many years ago...

On that earlier occasion, his expression had become grim and hard as he realised it contained the information, spells and incantations necessary to create each of the three exquisite, glass roses. The roses his father had given to his mother - two of which he, Draco, had given to Ginny, unwittingly causing her great pain and heartache. Those roses, Draco believed, had been instrumental in his mother's death. Despite this, he gave no thought to destroying the parchment at the time and had simply returned it to its hiding place before resolutely putting it out of his mind.

But on this occasion, as he unfolded the handwritten instructions, smoothing out the creases, he told himself he was merely filling in time. So it was during that fateful night that he took the first steps necessary to create a single rose carrying the Teneo Charm, the strongest of the three charms. As the sky showed the first grey light of dawn outside, he'd returned the parchment to the drawer along with the small, sharp, black rock he'd brought into being during the darkest hours of that night. Yet, as he closed the drawer, he felt horrified at what he'd done and swore to himself he wouldn't open it again, believing that was the end of the matter.

He was wrong.

Each night for the next week he found himself making his way to his study to continue work on the rose and the charm, and each night he reviled himself. Still, he continued, as though controlled by some deeper force. He ordered Latro to never enter the study for any reason during that week, telling Ginny he was catching up with paperwork and correspondence he'd been neglecting for some time. A week later, when it was finished, he'd placed the Teneo Rose back in the drawer with the parchment of instructions, telling himself he'd eventually get around to destroying it.

Draco knew that if he gave the rose to Ginny, it would become impossible for her to love any other man or make love to any other man besides himself. The Teneo Charm was Dark Magic and was an extremely powerful charm of possession, simultaneously ensuring that possession was binding and enduring.

He hated himself for making the rose, castigated himself for even allowing the thought of giving it to Ginny to enter his head, despite having banished that thought before it was fully formed.

While an inner voice continued to urge him to destroy the treacherous thing, he never seemed to get around to it, always finding something else that needed to be done first. He would later come to regret his procrastination.

Draco's dilemma? If something went wrong between them, if Ginny wanted to leave him, he found himself wondering if he would actually use the wretched rose - if he hadn't gotten around to destroying it, that is. Would he be able to stop himself from using it if he was faced with the prospect of losing her? Even though giving the cursed thing to her was wrong and he knew he'd be taking away her freedom to love as she chose - would he use it? Would he use it? This question churned torturously through his mind each day, but his aching heart seemed unable to find an answer.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Draco did keep the promises he'd made to Priscilla - he never told Ginny about her visit and he never again asked Ginny if she loved him, he no longer begged her just to say she did, even if she didn't. Ginny believed it was because of what she'd said the last time she'd left for the Burrow.

She was wrong.

It was due solely to his all-encompassing fear of losing her. Draco never allowed himself to consciously consider the Teneo Rose as a back-up - a “security blanket” - if it looked as though he might lose her. However, if he'd cared to delve a little more deeply into his own mind, he would've found those thoughts buried there, thoughts that unconsciously fuelled his ability to keep his obsessive need to himself.

One morning, a month after he'd placed the finished rose in the drawer, he'd walked into his study to find Latro dusting and tidying up his desk. The little elf jumped and squeaked in fright as Draco entered.

Dismissing him, Draco sat down to attend to some correspondence. He would've missed it if he hadn't fallen into the habit of compulsively glancing at the small carved panel that covered the secret drawer each time he sat at his desk. As his eyes flicked automatically towards the panel he froze; it was open - by the tiniest bit, it was true, the crack so slight he wouldn't have noticed ordinarily.

He felt panic rise within him. Had Latro knocked it accidentally while dusting? Surely that's all it was, for a house-elf's magic was closely bound with his owner's home and belongings and it wasn't unheard of for them to be able to bypass enchantments and the like, accidentally or otherwise.

While he told himself it had been an accident, he became aware that from that day onwards, Latro seemed different towards him. It was as though he was worried and distracted by something. Initially, Draco told himself he was imagining things, but his concern increased daily and he eventually asked Latro whether something had happened to disturb him, had he found or seen something on Draco's desk that was worrying him? Draco had received a vigorous shaking of the elf's head by way of answer.

It was a week later that Draco discovered Latro had lied to him.

The reason the elf was able to do this was because Draco had “given” him to Ginny, told him to follow her orders implicitly, without actually freeing him from his enslavement to the Malfoy line. In effect, Latro had two masters and if there was a conflict between them, it was left to the elf to choose which of them he would follow or obey, although it was usual for the first, or most senior master, to be favoured.

The little house-elf had felt the magic emanating from his master's desk from the time the Teneo Rose had been finished and had recognised it as being Dark Magic. Because the desk had originally belonged to Lucius Malfoy, Latro had been afraid his former master had built some ghastly, delayed hex into the desk and he was concerned for Draco.

This concern drove him to find and open the secret drawer, his large eyes blinking in surprise at the sight of the exquisite glass rose that lay on top of the folded parchment. After reading the parchment of instructions, it dawned on the little elf that the reason for his banishment from the study for a week - the time it took to create the rose - now sparkled in his small, long-fingered hand. He knew what the rose was intended to do and that there was only one person his master would want to possess, heart, mind and soul. He struggled with his conscience for a week before his stronger loyalty to Ginny, his love for her, drove him to seek her out.

And so it was late one afternoon, not long before Christmas, when Draco came to regret his inability to destroy the Teneo Rose he'd created.

He was relaxing in his study, reading in front of the fire, when Ginny unexpectedly walked in. Draco looked up, smiling with pleasure at the sight of her, but his smile vanished when he saw the expression on her face.

It was his deepest, darkest nightmare come to life. She was looking at him with disgust and revulsion. He jumped to his feet, his book dropping unnoticed from his hands.

`What is it?' he asked, his voice roughened with fear.

Ginny pointed at his desk, her eyes hard, and said one word: `Why?'

By all the Gods! She knew! Draco's heart turned to ice within him. But how?! HOW! Latro? Was it possible? It had to be - it was the only explanation. It had to be Latro! He felt a momentary desire to kill his house-elf.

`Latro.' It was all he said, his voice flat and defeated.

Ginny nodded, her voice steely as she repeated, `Why?'

He couldn't find the words at that moment to express his innermost fears and enormous desperation - his deep-seated need of her - or the horror he felt at the thought of losing her; nor could he articulate the fact that he hadn't really planned on using it, he'd just made it because… Fool! he told himself bitterly. Whatever I say will sound meaningless in the face of the fact that I made it. And kept it. He opened his mouth to try, but all he found he could say was, `I love you.'

`That's not love!' Ginny spat. `That's possession!'

Despite a sickening weakness taking hold of his body, he crossed the room towards her, his hands outstretched.

She stepped back away from him, out of his reach.

`No!' he moaned, taking another step towards her, trying again to reach her.

`Don't touch me!' she cried and then she covered her face with her hands, her head dropping as she began to cry, her body wracked with sobs.

`Ginevra, please!' Draco sounded as though he was in agony. Ginny lifted her head and looked at him, tears streaming down her face.

`I thought you loved me, truly loved me! After what I went through with those eternally damned roses of your mother's, how could you, Draco? How could you!'

`By all that's holy, by all the Gods, I'm sorry, Ginevra! You have no idea how sorry - just don't leave me!'

Ginny had started backing towards the door.

`Or what, Draco? You'll use that bloody rose? You'd rather I was your puppet? Forced to love you?'

And that's when he knew what he must do.

He whipped around towards the desk, his wand appearing in his hand from within the folds of his robes. Ginny screamed as a purple streak of light erupted from Draco's wand, engulfing the desk. A loud, ominous creaking noise filled the room and then the light was gone. And so was the desk. Fine grey ash littered the floor where it had been.

He turned to her, his face ghostly white, his eyes haunted.

`Until now, I was afraid to destroy that rose, Ginevra. I haven't been able to admit it to myself before now, but -' he swallowed convulsively as he finally faced the truth, `- I wasn't totally sure I wouldn't use the cursed thing, out of sheer desperation. I've imagined that having you with me at any cost was preferable to living without you. But it's not so. I'd rather die than do that to you. And as for making you into a puppet?' Draco shuddered - he'd never forget what his father had done to both of them all those years ago, `A hideous prospect. I love you. I've always loved you and I always will love you. If you wish to leave, I won't stop you - the choice is yours.'

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Pain twisted inside him like some pulsating, living thing.

`Ten galleons, sir.'

She wasn't with him, he was alone, his only companion the ever-present pain.

Draco handed over the money, waiting while the book he'd purchased was wrapped. He wasn't even sure why he'd bought it - it simply seemed to be something to do to help fill the black void he now inhabited, created by her absence.

`Left your lovely lady at home today?' commented the owner of the bookshop conversationally as he reached for the Spellotape dispenser.

Draco felt the pain inside him writhe in response to the man's words, and yet he somehow managed a faint, crooked smile as he nodded.

Five days of living hell.

As he handed Draco his book, now neatly wrapped, the shop owner said, `Give her my regards, will you? And I hope she's enjoying that novel I recommended to her last week.'

`I will,' replied Draco gruffly as he left.

Once outside in the bright July sunshine, he headed automatically towards the restaurant he and Ginny regularly patronised. Out of habit, he was about to turn and ask her what she'd be having today, his steps faltering in the same instant as he remembered she wasn't there. When he entered the restaurant he declined to be shown to a table, saying he'd only be having a drink at the bar today.

And so he sat, staring into his second double shot of Ogden's, wondering if he could be bothered going home. She was everywhere there - in the unfinished book on her bedside table, in the clothes hanging in the same cupboard with his, in the faint scent that clung to her pillow. Each day since she'd left he'd found a new reminder of her. He also saw some of his pain mirrored in the large, mournful eyes of Latro, who was miserable, although he said nothing. Draco had initially wanted to punish the hapless elf severely but he knew Ginny would never forgive him so he'd simply ordered the trembling creature not to speak to him unless absolutely necessary. When he'd told Ginny it was her choice as to whether she went or stayed, he'd meant it. And she'd left within the hour. He knew she'd leave - how could she not? And he was left alone with his vicious self-recriminations - all the more alone having had such joyous companionship as a contrast.

After his fourth double Ogden's, he decided he'd Floo home - Apparating after drinking too much could be risky.

Once home, as he walked to the door of the small sitting room, Latro's voice came to him faintly; he paused to listen and realised it was coming from the kitchen. The elf was talking. To whom? Draco's heart leapt. Ginevra! She was back! He half ran, half staggered across the entrance hall and down the hallway that led to the kitchen, stopping at the open door.

And there she was, sitting up at the kitchen bench with Latro perched on a stool beside her, his back to Draco, chattering away ecstatically as Ginny smiled down at him. Draco lifted his hands to brace himself in the doorway; his heart was racing and his head was swimming from the mixed effect of the Ogden's and his own, escalating emotions.

`Ginevra!' His voice was hardly more than a hoarse whisper.

Ginny looked up at him, the smile leaving her face, her expression becoming solemn at the sight of him. She looked pale and tired. Latro's head jerked around and on seeing Draco, he immediately disappeared with a crack!

Draco stayed where he was - his hands pressing against the door frame to support himself; he didn't think he could stand unaided at that moment.

`Draco.'

The sound of her heartbreakingly familiar voice saying his name resonated within him, shattering the pain he'd been carrying and destroying the memory of it. She was here. She was back. And his relief knew no bounds. Then as she spoke, her words fell into the deep, black void of pain that suddenly burst open around him once more…

`I've come to say goodbye.'

He was instantly overtaken with such intense anguish his vision wavered; the emotional storm sweeping through him so swiftly it was as though his heart heard her first, before the words were processed by his brain. An agonised roar split the air and as he slid slowly to the floor, the firewhiskey combining with despair to drag him down into darkness; he never knew it was his own voice that was beating against his ears as the blackness engulfed him.

`NOOOOO!!'

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Draco opened his eyes slowly and found himself lying on his side in his bed, facing the window; he wondered dimly why he was in bed when the sun was shining so brightly. Then the memory slammed into him with such force he cried out. He felt an immediate, desperate desire to go back where he'd been - to the silent blackness where he knew nothing, felt nothing.

`Draco?'

Gods! It was her! He rolled onto his back to see her sitting on the side of the bed, her hand hovering tentatively above his arm. The torment of knowing she was right here, within reach - but that he couldn't have her and that she was leaving - was so intense, he moaned, his eyes closing of their own accord.

`Do you feel all right? What happened?' Her voice was full of loving concern. `How much did you drink?'

Her patent anxiety slashed through him like a knife, leaving desolation in its wake. He realised that either Ginny or Latro must have moved him to his bed by magical means as he pushed himself upright, pulling his legs up and swinging them over the side of the bed before thrusting his hands through his dishevelled, blonde locks. Ginny moved so that she was now beside him, her hands clasped in her lap.

He turned his head, his gaze moving from his white-knuckled, clenched fists, resting on his thighs, to Ginny's face which was filled with sorrow and worry' he could see she'd been crying. Even so, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked - her fiery red hair pulled back in a ponytail, her eyes softened with concern as they rested on his face; she was wearing her favourite blue denim jeans with a green and white fitted polo shirt.

`Do I feel all right?' he rasped, `How in hell should I be feeling considering I did something so utterly stupid it's beyond belief - and drove away the only person on this planet I care about. Only to have her come back, ending the torture, or so I thought. And now -' Ginny gasped softly as she saw enormous pain and pleading reflected in his eyes, `- now, I find out you're only here to say goodbye.'

Ginny looked away, wrapping her arms around herself, speaking carefully thought-out words, her voice subdued with her own suffering.

`Draco, about the rose - I think I understand.' Ginny hesitated, a shiver passing over her. `No, I don't, not really. But the fact that you destroyed it like that once I knew of it, without hesitation - well, it's gone. I'll be able to put that behind me in time, although,' she glanced at him for a moment, a disturbing look in her eyes, `I'm not sure about whether I'll feel the same level of trust in you ever again.'

Draco felt as though her words drove a thousand knives into his heart, his eyes closing with the pain. He nodded, his eyes still closed. `I understand,' he said, unable to keep the anguish from his voice, `and from now on I will simply have to do everything in my power to try and regain some of that trust.'

His eyes flew open at the sound of a harsh, dry sob only to see Ginny once more drop her face into her hands, her shoulders shaking as she began to cry.

Draco couldn't bear it - he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him but she pushed him away, moving back a little as she took a deep, shuddering breath as she fought to stop crying. Wiping the tears from her face with shaking fingers, Ginny dropped her hands to her lap where they lay, so tightly clasped, her knuckles were white.

`Draco, it's not just that rose.' Her voice held a dreadful desolation that made his heart ache and made his arms ache to hold her, comfort her. `It's not going to work. I've been ignoring reality. And reality is what I've been facing up to for the past five days. This,' indicating their life in the manor with a brief sweep of her arm, `is no way to live, for either of us. It's not that I don't want to be with you - it's just that I can't see how we can spend our lives this way.'

Her words trickled slowly into his consciousness and as the full meaning of what she was saying became clear, Draco stood up abruptly. He reached out to gently pull Ginny to her feet, grasping her shoulders, waiting until she looked up at him before he spoke.

`Ginevra, please! There has to be away we can make it work - somehow! If you can forgive me for that foul rose, I refuse to give up - I refuse to believe there isn't a way we can be together!'

As she looked up at him, the pleading in his eyes almost more than she could bear, Ginny felt hot, bitter tears begin slowly trickling down her face. She shook her head and when she spoke, her voice was weary and heartbroken. `I want to believe you, Draco, but I've gone over everything - thought about it from every angle - I've been driving myself crazy for the last five days thinking about it. I can't see how we can go on.'

He pulled her to him, wrapping his strong arms around her, pressing his lips against the soft hair on top of her head. She drew in an uneven breath, her arms wrapping around his waist as she turned and laid her cheek against his chest, fresh pain sweeping through her at the sound of his erratically pounding heart. Here, in his arms, his love for her almost palpable, she felt the first glimmer of hope since she'd left five days before.

`For as long as I live, I will never be able to make it up to you - for making that rose - for considering using it even for the tiniest second - but I want to spend the rest of my life trying,' he whispered imploringly. `If you need me even half as much as I need you, you'll stay. I'm begging you Ginevra - to stay. With everything I have. You've suffered so much - you lost your husband - I -' his voice faltered, but he took a deep breath and continued, `- I told you I loved you and then betrayed you, something I will never forgive myself for. But I know I can make you happy Ginevra, and you deserve to be happy.' He felt her shake and knew she was crying so he simply held her until he felt her sobs subside a little.

And then, without knowing or caring about the consequences, he took a small step back, gathering her hands in his. Then he dropped to one knee, Ginny's sharp, indrawn breath the only sound in the room. Their eyes were locked; hers filled with sadness, apprehension, surprise - his with love and pleading as he gazed up at her.

`Ginevra, I'm literally begging you to stay. I ask nothing more of life than to be able to marry you and spend my life with you - making you happy. If you will have me. I will do anything - anything! - to make you happy; you only need to ask.'

He watched as tears continued to flow unheeded down her face. He saw one emotion after another move swiftly across her face - the familiar, beloved face of the only woman he'd ever truly loved or wanted. He knew her every expression - watched as desperate longing filled her eyes because she did want to stay, he was sure. Uncertainty took the place of the longing - uncertainty at what their life would be like if she did stay - and then distress took over, she was thinking about having to choose between a “normal” life without him, a life devoid of happiness, or a secretive, hidden life with him. His eyes didn't leave her face for a second as he waited for her to speak and so it was that he saw the slow crumbling of her defences, the reasons for them not to be together retreating to some far corner of her mind, diminishing into unimportance - for now. He saw the moment when she made the choice to stay - it was in her eyes, in the small, wavering smile that appeared on her face and it was in the trembling of her fingers as they rested in his hands.

As Ginny felt the corners of her mouth lift in the beginnings of a smile, she saw the joy blazing fiercely in Draco's eyes a moment before he was overcome with such enormous relief he couldn't contain it, his head dropping forward, his eyes closing as his grip on her fingers unconsciously tightened.

`I'll stay,' he heard her whisper.

A sound that was half sob, half triumphant cry split the air as Draco came to his feet, feeling as though the light of a thousand suns was shining on him as he took Ginny's face in his hands, looking deeply into her eyes.

`You won't be sorry,' he whispered hoarsely before raining soft, quick kisses over her cheeks, her eyes and finally claiming her lips.

As their lips parted, Ginny spoke, her voice low and husky, laden with tears of relief and joy.

`I do need you, Draco, so much. I can't imagine being truly happy without you.'

He felt a dizzying rush of rapture at her words.

`We will find a way together, my love, I promise.'

She smiled through her tears.

`Perhaps we can, somehow. We can at least try, can't we?'

He kissed her again, gently and lovingly at first but as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against him he felt his self-control slipping away, replaced with a growing, urgent need and desire for her. She gently pulled her mouth from his and whispered something against his lips.

`What?' he murmured, feverish with desire.

`I think I love you.'

And as those words penetrated his heart, he knew nothing would have the power to turn him from his chosen path: that of loving her and keeping her happy, for as long as he lived.

THE END

Author's Note

Did they live happily ever after? Hmmm, with Draco and Ginny, who can say for certain…but we can always hope, can't we, dear readers?

Cheers dears! *Janie blows kisses*

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