All The Time

A large pale hand brushes through small red tendrils. A pale pointed face with large brown eyes looks up at a tall man, not knowing just what the problem is. The child doesn't know he thinks about her all the time.

“Da, are you okay?” An Irish lilt asks, stumbling through his thoughts, almost being consumed by the swirls of memories.

“Yes Blythe, I'm fine,” Draco replied, ceasing his thoughts by picking up the small girl and holding her close to his face. He had hoped their next child would have more of her facial features, perhaps her almond shaped eyes or pert nose. He wanted a daughter with strawberry blonde hair, and a son with his coloring.

He wanted so many things now a days, but they were just out of his grasp in fates eternal joke. A mockery of making humans reach just a little bit further to turn up empty handed.

“Draco,” A voice calls from the door to his study. If he would turn he knows would see his beautiful wife. His beautiful, amazing, soft, rich wife, who wasn't anything that he wanted.

“Draco,” His wife calls again coming into plain view. Gabrielle Delacour in all of her pregnant beauty slowly maneuvered her way over Blythe's toys and Draco's books.

“It's time to get this one to sleep!” Gabrielle said with a warm smile taking Blythe out of Draco's hands. The young girl let out a shriek of joy and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek before being placed on the floor. Gabrielle was the only mother Blythe ever knew. Life could be unfortunate in that sense.

Years later, as a rebellious teenager, Blythe would demand to know why she had to mourn a woman who was never a mother to her. A woman she never knew. She would be angry and confused, surrounded by siblings who looked like snow angels and feeling completely out of place. However, they didn't know that now. None of them could predict it.

Now, Gabrielle walked Blythe out of her father's study and sent the little girl down the hall to get prepared for bed.

“Will you be late tonight?” Gabrielle asked her husband, already knowing the answer as she pats her ever-growing stomach. Her, rather their child.

“I'll be in as soon as I'm done,” Draco promised, like he did every night before crawling into bed after midnight.

Once Draco was alone he turned around and picked up a cherry wood box off his bookshelf. In it was the remains of her, of their life together. She smiled up from a black and white photograph on top, her eyes looking tired as she rubbed her growing stomach just like Gabrielle had done seconds before. She had no hair, and her head was wrapped in some sort of printed scarf to hide the fact.

But he knew, they both knew.

Beneath the photograph lay a memory book, a chronicle of their Hogwarts years. A tribute to them finding each other.

In some of the photos she zoomed in and out of the frames in her quidditch uniforms, either catching the snitch, or making the game saving play. Other poorly taken pictures showed her in various aspects of life in the Gryffindor tower. Towards the back of the album started the pictures of the two of them together.

He had finally gotten over himself, returning to Hogwarts poorer than the Weasleys and surprised, but not quite sure why, by the dream team's absence in his final year. She was nice to him for no reason, and he clung to that. They had a reluctant romance measured by homework by the lake and chats in the library, to late night snacks and stolen kisses. They were each other's support, best friend, and lover. They were everything to one another.

The final picture in the book showed them up on the stage at his graduation, her standing on her tiptoes to give him a firm kiss as he received his diploma.

Of course the fates couldn't let mere humans get too happy, and amidst the war, that's what their year at Hogwarts was. Happy. Peaceful.

Her family didn't accept him. His friends wanted him dead. They did the only thing that made sense, got married and ran.

The wedding was a small affair, the only guests being her parents, Blaise Zabini, Colin Creevy, and Professor McGonagall who officiated. Colin took beautiful pictures portraying a young bride with shining eyes and a heart full of love laden in lace and ready to embark on the rest of her life with the man she loved.

She returned to Hogwarts that year, and it was the longest year in his life. He didn't waste it though, he searched for a home outside of England, and outside of the war zone they so desperately wanted to leave. Upon her graduation he whisked her away to France where they would spend the first few years of married life.

The first few years of their life together, and ironically the last few years of her life on earth.

Like any married couple they had their problems. Fights over restaurants, quidditch, clothing, anything and everything marked the years of their marriage. But they had passion, and so they endured.

The last year she got pregnant. Subconsciously he would always blame the baby. He would always blame Blythe, even though it had nothing to do with her. The disease had started long before she had ever gotten pregnant; it's just one of those things no one had ever noticed. Like a new hair cut, or a changed picture, a life threatening disease, they were all the same in that sense.

It was the worst nine months of his life, watching the love of his life, the most beautiful woman he knew decay into an incubator, just waiting for the baby to be done so she could be done too.

He never remembered crying as much as he did on the day his daughter was born. The day his wife died.

He had a small funeral. Cremation. It was all very morbid and depressing. Since her parents passed on, no one from her family came. She would have hated that.

It was amid his mourning that fate hiccupped, giving him Gabrielle. She was nothing like Her, it was probably better that way. Gabrielle was a good mother to their daughter, Blythe. Took care of her as if she bore Blythe herself. She would have appreciated that.

After Gabrielle asked to adopt Blythe they moved to Ireland. France reminded him too much of her. This time the wedding was a big affair. Blythe, already 3, was the flower girl. Gabrielle wore cream silk. Both of their families turned up. Her older brother Bill came with Fleur.

He did nothing but stare longingly at Blythe.

Draco imagined the children Bill and Fleur, or Ron and Luna would bear would resemble the children they were supposed to have. He hated the unborn innocents for that fact.

He misses her terribly these days as Gabrielle expects their first child, his second. His second child should be with Ginny. It just…wasn't right.

Reaching to the bottom of the box there is a letter she wrote to him, the last letter she ever wrote him. Below that is a sealed envelope for Blythe, when she's older of course.

My dearly beloved,

It's been a ride, and I can't say I would give anything for it. If I had known back at Hogwarts befriending you would turn out like this I would have done it so much sooner.

I feel a self-inflicted pressure to say all these clichéd things. Don't mourn me too long. Take care of the children. Don't forget me. Take care of yourself. Move on.

Draco, do what your heart tells you is right, if not for yourself, then for our child. Dear Lord I hope you don't pick something too hideous for the poor child's name. Let's not kid ourselves we know I won't be able to.

If love were enough I would have never gotten sick, but love isn't enough. More clichés ensue. Make sure to take care of our child; I don't want it to suffer like I have.

I grow weary and slightly ill thinking of any type of existence with out you. You will forever be my past, present and future, no matter what happens in the next few days. I love you Draco Malfoy. Presently I wish I were strong enough to shout it from the rooftops.

How does one say good-bye to everything they've worked their entire life to get? I'm not quite sure, but I do believe I will find out soon enough. Much too soon for may taste, but one must go where the wind blows them.

Kiss our child goodnight every night an extra time just for me. I'm sorry to leave you with the hard part Draco. I'm sorry to leave you to pick up the pieces once again. I'm sorry for the stupid fights. I'm sorry for waiting so long. I'm sorry for everything, everything but us. I will never be sorry because of us.

You are the reason I keep going these days when all I want to do is give up and die. You are my everything. I love you more than your mind can fathom.

Forever yours,

Ginerva Weasley Malfoy

Letting out a sigh and wiping a traitorous tear he walked down the hall to Blythe's room giving her two kisses on her pale forehead before going into his own quarters.

“You know she's never coming back right?” Gabrielle asked not looking up from the book in her lap.

“Of course I do, but one can always dream,” He languidly gets into bed, only bothering to shed his shoes before falling fast asleep. Gabrielle let out a sigh while whispering a quick `nox' and returning the book to her nightstand before curling up next to her husband.

She knows he doesn't love her. She knows she's only second best. She knows she will never hold a flame to Ginny Weasley, but strangely, that's quite all right for the small French woman. She's always been second best; she doubted it would change now.

Draco thinks about her all the time, at work, while eating, when making love to his new wife. He will never forget the first and only love of his life. His heart will never the passion it once held known as Ginny Weasley.

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