Dear Heart

Dear Heart,

The leaves on the ground were a kaleidoscope of dark browns, reds and yellows, all of them having fallen from the now bare trees in preparation for this Winter’s first frost. Ginevra Weasley loved this time of year; the end of Autumn and the beginning of Winter. The air was cold and almost seemed to chill your lungs when you inhaled the scent of morning dew, making you shudder with a strange tortuous pleasure.

Ginny Weasley was eighteen years of age and was one year out of Hogwarts, the War slowly coming to an end, Voldemort defeated but the Order still trying to put an end to renegade members of the Death Eater community; people such as Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange still very much at large. . .in search for a new leader, no doubt. Sheep.

Most of her family would have probably screamed blue Avada Kedevra if they saw the youngest Weasley was milling about without someone to protect her. It wasn’t as though Ginny would shy away from confrontation - she never ran, she always stayed and fought her ground. . .something to both admire and condemn Kingsley Shacklebolt had told her once in that slow, deep voice of his.

“Arnaud! - come on, boy! Back you come!”

But there was no sign of her chocolate brown puppy, normally he would have bounded towards her, his large tongue dangling out of his open mouth as he lolloped over the mounds of leaves that littered the little country path she was currently strolling along.

“Arnaud! Not funny now. . .Merlin, Mum’s gonna kill me.”

She stopped suddenly. The wind whistled slightly but apart from that, where there was normally a dark, deserted silence, there was the sound of rumbling laughter and she could here the unmistakable happiness yelp from her canine.

“Bloody traitor. . .” she muttered, thinking Harry had followed her and was now distracting her puppy. The dog always had liked the saviour of the Wizarding World - who didn’t really?

But it was not a man with unruly black hair that met her honey-coloured gaze, it was someone with ice-blonde locks and his hair tied back in an elegant ponytail; the figure had his back to her but there was no mistaking that perfect ‘V’ shape his back held, the slenderness of his physique - how many times had she seen that back flying on a broom around a Hogwarts Quidditch pitch or watched it as it walked away from her while she thought of a cutting response a little too late . . .

“Draco Malfoy.”

I met a boy today…

He turned, his slate grey eyes widening in shock. “Ah, a Weasley, of the female type.” his face held no shadow of scorn or joy, in fact he looked quite indifferent and although wasn’t physically much different to how she remembered him - except perhaps a bit healthier looking these days - his face was marred with an air of maturity that hadn’t resided there in the past.

“Why are you here -- I -- we thought you were deserter. . .”

“Well you thought wrong. Lupin organised a safe house for my Mother and I in Japan.”

She was slightly taken aback. She’d never known him give such an honest answer so easily. He’d never seemed sincere.

“So. . .you were on our side?”

“No.”

She frowned.

“I wasn’t on a side, Weasley.”

“Coward”

“Don’t judge me. . .you don’t understand.”

She sat on a tree stump, and petted Arnaud’s head as he skulked around her ankles, she was staring determinedly at her puppy, refusing to make eye contact with the tall blonde before her.

He took the docile moment to examine her. It had been two and a half years since he’d seen anyone he recognised - apart from his Mother, of course - and if the truth be told, he barely recognised her. Her long hair was wavy and glossy, a dark red colour, her skin was pale, and nicked with a few silvery scars here and there, she was quite stunning in a striking type of way. It was clear why she’d reacted to the way he had not needed to fight in the War the way she had - it was obvious she herself had been in the thick of it, had, had a good two years of her life stolen away by violence and bloodshed, while he had remained out of sight, out of harm’s way.

He shivered.

Ginny looked up from her gloved hands and buried her nose into the scarf that covered a good deal of her neck and face.

“Come on, Malfo--”

“--Draco.”

“Draco, lets get something to drink.”

He looked around him, seeing only trees and fields around him, “where? May I ask?”

She rolled her eyes, “Are you a wizard or not? We’ll Apperate.”

He looked down at his toes, a dull flush creeping up the nineteen-year-olds face. “Well, I haven’t done magic for nearly three years. . .I might be a bit rusty. . .”

“Oh. Well, come here - we’ll side-along apparate.”

0x-

Draco looked around him and saw that he and the redhead who’d bought him here were standing just outside the backdoor of what looked like a Muggle pub. She put the lead back on her Puppy and beckoned him with her red-gloved finger to follow her around to the front door of the establishment.

She observed him as she bought drinks; he sat there with lofty, nonchalant air about him, his handsomeness seeming effortless and undeserved. He was haughty too, but not petulant anymore. . .she supposed that had something to do with the ordeal he had gone through those years ago. . .she, herself, was no longer so naive or innocent looking, her eyes still sparkled with a fiery passion that never seemed to falter, but her lips weren’t so quick to quirk into a smile, her raucous laughter not quite so easy to charm out of her. The War had bought with it negatives and positives. Though it seemed the negative aspects outweighed anything positive.

She would have released her worldly, less naive, outlook on life to be able to be ignorantly happy once more.

Two hours, and six glasses of mulled wine, between them, later Draco had learnt that Ginny was a girl who had, had to grow up too quickly and had a very jaded outlook on life, her love for the world was wearing thin. Men had messed her around, she had killed people with her wand and the Muggle way. . .her last two years of education had been taught to her in her own home, in a safe house, where no one could get to her. Where she hadn’t been able to contact the outside world for months on end. People who’d said they loved her had betrayed her and now her Heart was hidden carefully behind a set of intricate locks.

Draco too had explained a lot about his time in Japan, where he had cared for his Mother who had been nearing insanity due to grief and the loss of her Husband riddling her, he had also lived as a Muggle, having optionally given the Order his wand, in secret, of course, so that he could not be tempted into the Dark world of magic again.

And as they arrived at the underground Head Quarters to the Order - it in their minds to announce the blonde’s return, and to allow him to finally join the fight, even if not a lot was left of it - Ginny made a unconscious decision that Draco Malfoy would be the last man she allowed into her heart. He would be the last man to break her faith in the ideals of love. He would be the last man she offered the key to her carefully guarded defences.

…prepare to shatter.

0x-

Author’s Note: I liked the quote.

It made me want to write.

Review for me.

I love to know your thoughts on my writing =]

Tasha x