Tell Me On A Sunday

Tell Me On A Sunday

Chapter One - Take That Look Off Your Face

It was with a grim determination and an odd satisfaction that Ronald Weasley strode up the pathway leading to Malfoy Manor. He was heading towards the ominous looking mansion in order to tell his sister that, for once, he had been right. To alert her of a truth that would hurt her for the present but ultimately would allow her to have a future of happiness and to bring back the closeness she’d had with her family. The winter air bit at his cheeks, making them bloom a famous Weasley scarlet and his hands felt as though they were not far away from freezing into blocks of ice, however he was full of certainty. He’d been wanting to visit his sister since three o’clock that morning, however, had refrained. It was now around five in the evening and he was certain she’d have returned from rehearsals and that Malfoy would still be out of the house.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The rapping of the large brass knocker reverberated around the massive grounds, disturbing the peace that had been there before. Silence for a few moments, the loud bangs were still ringing in his ears when the door opened; a small creature, a House Elf, stood in the doorway eyeing him suspiciously.

“May I be helping you…sir.” Even Malfoy’s elves seemed capable of his sneering sarcasm.

“I’m here to see Ginny Weasley - my sister.”

“Miss Ginevra is not expecting you.”

Before Ron could administer a swift kick to the small servant, his sister dashed into the entrance hall and appeared in the doorway; her long red hair fell in soft waves about her shoulders, her eyes were large and open wide in surprise at the visit from her brother (he never normally came here unless invited, or, rather, forced). She looked much as she had last he’d seen her, thinner perhaps, though she always did diminish in weight when in rehearsals.

“It’s okay, Henna - that’ll be all.” Though spoken kindly it was a firm dismissal and the House disapperated to the kitchens.

Not allowing him to even enter over the threshold she threw herself bodily at him, “oh, Ron! It’s so good to see you!” It had been a couple of months since the siblings had seen one another. They’d had a falling out at Halloween, over her choice of partner. He’d always hated Draco Malfoy and now that hate had intensified since his sister had moved in with him. At first, when they’d just been dating he was quite happy to pretend it wasn’t really happening and that it wasn’t official. Although now, it seemed that he’d realised that once they were moved in together when he visited Ginny, he’d also be visiting the Amazing Bouncing Ferret from his schooldays. And that made things a whole lot harder to deny to himself. Clearly she thought he was here as a representation of a truce between the two.

“Hey, Gin…think we could, you know, get in the house…I’m freezing my arse off here.”

“Of-of course!” Letting go of his neck she allowed him to enter the magnificent household. The door shut quietly (it had been charmed not to slam) behind him. “Come, lets have some tea in parlour.” She said this a little tongue in cheek, expecting Ron - like her other siblings had done at her invitation - to take the mick out of their ickle Ginny-winny having a parlour! But Ron said nothing, merely followed his sister into a beautifully decorated room. She ushered him into a seat by the fire and took the one opposite him. She was seated in a chair which Draco usually sat in, Ron was in hers. She felt Draco may actually have an apoplectic fit if he knew her brother had been sitting in his favourite chair.

“Tippin.” She called to the room. As yet another House Elf appeared Ron rolled his eyes a little, knowing Hermione would have had a small coronary if she could see. “Could you bring up a pot of tea for my brother and I, please? Anything to eat Ron?”

“Er, no -- no thanks, Gin.” He replied, practically bursting with anticipation at wanting to tell her his news.

“Oh, don’t be silly. We’ll have the leftovers of last night’s pumpkin pie too, Tippin. That’ll be all, thank you.”

“Really, Gin, I’m not hun-”

“Oh, please. Ronald Weasley you are always hungry, especially as you seem to have come straight from work.” He glanced down at his plain Auror robes and sighed, she looked so elegant in comparison, he could hardly believe it was still his sister who sat before him. The girl he used to know wore ratty old jumpers of his or Harry’s, and shorts or thick jeans and boots. The woman he now knew to be his sister dressed in the finest materials, in expensive designer robes and make up that was not really needed.

“I guess you know me well.” He grinned, then grew slightly more serious; down to business. “There is a reason I’m here though, Gin.”

“Oh? What --” she began, however the re-entrance of Tippin interrupted her. The elf balanced the large tray admirably well for one half the size of it’s load.

“Here is Misses tea.” Sliding the tray upon the table which stood between the brother and sister he poured the tea into the dainty cups and placed a slice of pie in front of each of the Weasleys. “Enjoy.” With a flourish the small creature disappeared once more with a loud crack.

Picking up her tea without pouring in milk or adding sugar Ginny began to sip, Ron who was currently adding his third and final sugar looked up at his sister in shock. “Since when did you drink your tea like that, eh?”

“What? Oh, I don’t know…it’s how Draco drinks his and I just got used to it, I suppose. Too much stealing slurps of his morning tea.” She smiled in a slack-jawed, utterly besotted manner and Ron responded with a grunt before drinking about half of his tea in one swallow.

“Merlin, these cups don’t hold much.”

“No…I know. It’s an old Malfoy tradition to drink tea properly or some such nonsense. Draco and I use our mugs when there are no guests in the Manor,” she shrugged and took another small sip. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“Er, right.” He took a deep breath, “well…thing is, Gin. Me, Luna, Hermione and Harry were out last night…in that Wizarding bar on Wardale Street.”

She motioned for him to continue and he did so after draining his teacup.

“…and we saw Malfoy there.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“He wasn’t alone, Gin; he was with Daphne Greengrass.”

Swallowing down hard she forced out a smile, “don’t be ridiculous, Ronald, Draco’s in France until eight, this evening.”

“They looked…pretty cosy.”

“They’re old friends,” she ground out.

“She had her tongue in his mouth and her hands down his trousers, Ginny!”

Taking a deep breath she stood. “Don’t be stupid. We go there all the time, we know people that go there all the time. Don’t you think he’d be a tad more discreet if he was having an affair?”

“He doesn’t care, Gin.”

“You’re mistaken, Ronald.” He smiled in what she assumed he thought would be a sympathetic manner. But it just looked self satisfied and smug upon his features.

“I bet you’ve been dying to share that little tid bit with me, haven’t you?” She accused, her eyes hard. “You could hardly sleep last night with excitement, could you? I can see it in your eyes --- you’ve been practically bursting since you arrived to tell me that! Well take that self-satisfied look off your face, go on…say it ‘I was right, Gin, you shoulda listened to me…I know best!’” She imitated his voice in a satirical fashion. “Well, you silly bastard, here’s news for you - you couldn’t wait to bring all that bad news to my door but I knew before!”

His mouth gaped as tears sprung to her eyes. She strode behind the high backed chair, gripping it tightly with her white-knuckled hands she leant forwards slightly, “shocked are you, brother dearest? Yes, I knew. I’ve known since it began; I know everything about him. I love him, don’t you think I’d be able to tell that he’d started fucking someone else?!” Her language was course and suddenly her elegant, glacial demeanour was gone, she looked frazzled, defeated and thoroughly pissed off. “You idiot. I saw all the signs but I…I just closed my eyes to it, like only a woman can. Like only a lover who is so desperately enamoured with him, could; you see, I don’t care that he is hers…cause he’s mine as well.”

Breathing deeply she wiped the tears away fiercely and sat back down, smoothing her hair down as she did so. “I didn’t want to know, Ron. I didn’t dig deep into his life to discover his little fuck buddies that he’d acquired in the past couple of months, it was plain to anyone that knows him. I didn’t interfere with his affairs and his private life in order to reveal all of this shit. You just don’t, not when you’re afraid you’ll hear the truth. I knew, but I didn’t know and I was happy.”

He didn’t know what to say. His sister. His fierce, beautiful, strong, intelligent sister who was loyal and opinionated and full of life was happy settling with a man who could only ever he half hers. Who had she become?

“And if you think I’m going to leave him when he returns this evening - you’re wrong again. I’ll ask him how was France, I’ll sit besides him, we’ll eat dinner, he’ll drink, we’ll make love and fall asleep. In the morning it’ll be as if you were never even here.”

“Ginny, I don’t think you’re fully comprehending what I said to you!”

“Ronald he’s having an affair, I know what you said. But the thing is - I knew before you told me!”

She knew. She’d known since the beginning. They’d been together fourteen months and for the past two he’d been drinking heavily and sleeping around. Ever since she’d moved in…why had he asked her if he was going to treat her like this? Wanker.

But Merlin damn it, she loved that wanker.

You must be mistaken, it couldn't have been

You couldn't have seen him yesterday

He left here around 7.30 am

I hate it when he's away

You must be mistaken, I'm sure that you are

I know that bar on Wardale Street

Well, lot's of our friends go there of a nigh'

You'd think he'd, be more discgreet

Take that look of your face

I can see through your smile

You would love to be right

I bet you didn't sleep good last night

Couldn't wait, to bring all of that bad news to my door

Well, I've got news for you, I knew before!

If I'm not mistaken, this is nothing new

Bet I could tell you where it began

I noticed a changed, so I just closed my eyes

As only a woman can

No, I didn't dig deep

I did not want to know

Well, you don't interfere

When you're scared of the things you might here

And when he's back, you'll thing I'll end it there and then

Well my fearweatherd friend, you're wrong again

Take that look of your face

I can see through your smile

You would love to be right

I bet you didn't sleep good last night

Couldn't wait to bring all of that bad news to my door

Well, I've got news for you, I knew before!

Author’s Note: Heyhey.

Tell Me On A Sunday is a one-woman musical that I’d LOVE to do. Hah.

But yeah this is a Ginny-centric story. She’ll be in other relationships with about 3 other men, okay? Although those of you who know my work know I can’t help but have Ginny and Draco together so yeah. Hah.

Lyrics belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber (genius!).

Each chapter will co-inside with a song of the musical, telling Ginny’s story. Possibly a sequel to this.

Chapter aren’t going to be overly hefty, I don’t think. Soz.

Also, readers of Delicate I’m going to be taking down the first chapter and heavily revising it. So hopefully in a couple of weeks a new version will be up and it’ll be much better!

Review? Ta.

Tasha.

Tell Me On A Sunday

Chapter Two - Let Me Finish #1

Ginny sighed and stubbed out the dying butt of her cigarette; a habit she’d acquired to taking to when stressed or nervous or, like now, both. Ron had left about five hours ago and she still sat in Draco’s chair, the only light now erupting from the dying fire; the tea service was as it had been when Ron had left the Manor, the slices of pie untouched. Draco should have returned two and half hours ago but she was still alone. Her appearance was now totally dishevelled, her hair in disarray from running her fingers through it too many times, her make-up long since cried away. She’d been so content to let Draco have his cake and eat it; she didn’t care he was having an affair, she could pretend he wasn’t and continue living happily with him. Though, really, they didn’t live together happily. Not anymore. He drank all night. Slept a good part of the day. Did a little business work, meeting clients and the like. Then, he’d begin drinking again.

Sometimes though, he didn’t drink. Sometimes he’d look at her with clear, un-inebriated eyes and she’d see love shining back at her. Ginny lived for those days. The problem tonight was, that although Draco was not very good at hiding his indiscretions away from their relationship, he never really gave reason to suspect foul play either. He’d always be back to her at the time he gave her. Never late. Never spotted by anyone they knew, let alone her own friends. Either he was being a sadistic bastard nowadays, or as Ron had said he just didn’t care any longer. Regardless of the reason, he was becoming less and less the man she fell in love with fourteen months ago and it was time, the twenty-seven-year-old decided, to move on. She loved him more than anything in the world, but he was hurting her. And she wasn’t a fool who’d continue to stick her hands in the flames just to feel a burn.

As the clock chimed eleven, Draco stumbled through the parlour door. His hair was mussed, his clothes leaving much to be desired and he stunk of cheap, generic perfume. She could have cried; did the man who held her heart want to cause her anymore anguish? Within his right hand he carried a bottle half full of Ogden’s. The picture of a man fallen from his self-inflicted pedestal.

“Ginny, love!” He slurred his words as he made his way heavily across the room; stumbling and leaning against furniture for assistance.

She took in a clam steadying breath and looked up at him from beneath her red tresses, “you’re late, Draco.”

“Had a -- er, celebratory drink, didn’t I?”

“You sealed the French contract then?”

“What? France…oh, yeah, yeah. Sealed that deal good.” He wriggled his eyebrows at her.

A solitary tear fell; must he continue to insult her intelligence further? “You said you’d be here at eight. What time of night do you call this?”

He noticed her ire, “are you alright, Gin?”

“No, Draco, I am not alright. I’m sick to death of your wasted life!” She found herself yelling, suddenly standing at her full impressive height of five foot nine inches.

“Wha? Ginny look --”

“Let me finish,” but at her words he opened his mouth to contradict her once more. “I said let me finish!”

She sighed and began to pace as he sunk into a half drunken stupor in her chair, his eyes staring up widely at his suddenly incredibly bossy and domineering girlfriend. “I wish you’d stop saying you don’t have a problem! Especially because if you don’t, I do!”

“Ginny I sa--”

“Let me finish! You drink all night, you sleep all day and the most enthusiasm you show anything that isn’t Fire Whiskey or Daphne Greengrass is Quidditch on the bloody wireless!”

“Daph--”

“Look, shut up, Draco; let me finish. It’s not often I get a chance to talk like this and you actually listen, or are at least sober enough to stay conscious! I’ve had it up to here,” she gestured to way above her own head, “of your mood swings and not knowing what state you’re gonna be in. Sick of walking on eggshells around you! Your circle of friend don’t help matters either, all of them are just as bad; fucking other women, gambling and on a constant supply of alcohol.” It was true. Blaise Zabini, Greg Goyle, Vincent Crab, Marcus Flint; all of them drunk like fish and not a one remained faithful to their respective partners.

“Gin, you mean so much --”

“No! When I’m here I’m in the way and when I’m not I’m neglecting you!” Her anger subsided slightly, bitter disappointment lacing her ground out words, “you’re a different man when you stop drinking.” Eyeing the amber liquid in the bottle he held, she felt the urge to murder the son-of-a-witch who’d invented it. “You can afford rehab, The Priory, damn it - why won’t you go?”

She was shaking as she seated herself opposite him, in the chair she’d faced Ron in earlier. “Ginny, your cold and upset and not making sense, here have a drink.”

She nearly launched the bottle into the fading fire. “I. Don’t. Want. A. Drink.” She sighed, “now, listen, I’ve practised these words for hours.” She was cold with nerves and dread. Was she really about to do this? She remember a time when they were so very in love and so full of hope. They’d fought so much to get where they were. Had overcome family prejudices, she’d lost friends. The relationship between her and Ron and Harry was now tenuous at best. At family parties she’d generally have to go alone to be accepted or risk the treatment one wouldn’t award to e a leper. But she hadn’t cared, because Draco loved her and she loved him.

“I’m sad Draco. I lost people in the War, I have people that hate me for loving you; I don’t drink to block it all out…I know about the affair you’ve been having; you’re not even good at playing around.”

He took in his own appearance and tears looked as though they were forming in his eyes. She noticed his sudden downward spiral in demeanour. “Jeez, you’re too drunk to even get into this.” Secretly thinking it was probably a good job Draco had come home drunk or she’d never have had the anger to fuel her courage, something she greatly needed if she were to leave him. Though, if he had not returned intoxicated and late and smelling of his tart, she’d be snuggling him in bed right now. Not caring he’d not long ago been in the embrace of another woman.

“Merlin, this isn’t how I imagined we’d say goodbye.” Her voice was sad and in pain, “You have this beautiful, big house and you live in your study - just the one room - it’s sad. I’m going…while I’m still a person.”

“Ginny, I swear, “ he crumpled to the floor, on his knees before her. “It isn’t you…it really isn’t you. I love you, I -I swear it to you --”

She cut off his words. “Please don’t. I must not be talked into staying. It’s all lies. Goodbye, Draco.” She bent and kissed him one last time, wanting to cry as the last time her lips touched his they were infected with stale Fire Whiskey and tainted with the lipstick from another woman’s kiss. Her last memory of him, was of him at his worst.

Just what time of night do you call this?

No, I’m not alright; I am sick to death of your wasted life.

Let me finish, I said let me finish!

I wish you’d stop saying you don’t have a problem - I have!

I can’t put up with all your mood swings.

You’re asleep all day and awake all night watching gangster films.

Let me finish, this time let me finish!

Wait a minute, you’ll get your turn.

It’s not often I get the chance to talk.

I’m sick of not knowing what state you’ll be in.

And your circle of friends aren’t the ones I’d choose.

When I’m here I am in the way!

When I’m not you say I’m neglecting you.

You’re a different man when you stop drinking.

You can afford the Priory - why won’t you go?

No, I don’t want a drink, not yet.

I’ve rehearsed these lines for ages.

Why do I feel cold? I suppose it’s nerves.

I don’t need a drink!

I know about the affair you’ve been having.

You’re not even good at playing around.

You’re too drunk to get into this!

This isn’t how I thought we’d say goodbye/

You have this great big house and yet you only live in one room.

It’s sad! It’s time I was going.

I’m going while I’m still a person.

Please don’t! I must not be talked into staying.

Author’s Note: Second chapter already! Shocking, I know. Hah. Clearly procrastinating way too much.

I’d like some feedback please. It’d be niiice to know what you think.

Tash.

Tell Me On A Sunday

Chapter Three - It’s Not The End Of The World

She’d gathered a bag of clothing, underwear and other essentials then apparated away, while heartbreakingly, Draco drank himself further into a stupor. Now, his need for drink fuelled by a melancholy air and a desperation of facing life alone and lonely, at that. She found herself perched on the stoop outside of the wooden backdoor which would open to reveal Molly Weasley’s kitchen; she’d come to her childhood home for the night, to The Burrow. Tears swam in her chestnut eyes. She was filled with a strange sadness and disappointment, she had thought she’d have been so good for him.

Somewhere within her she knew that it wasn’t going to kill her, she wouldn’t die simply because she’d left him, even if it felt that way tonight. Tomorrow the sadness would still, perhaps, be there but the day after that? A year later? She knew she’d feel none of this anguish, so tonight she would cry and hurt and tomorrow, tomorrow she was leaving England. It was spontaneously decided and yet all at once she knew that was what she needed to do. She didn’t think she could stand to see knowing looks from her family, risk bumping into Draco and definitely knew her heart wouldn’t last the distance should she ever see him with another her. The replacement Ginny Weasley in Draco Malfoy’s life was something she refused to watch occur. Bitch. She hadn’t even been found and already Ginny hated her.

She hated Ron for bringing it all out in the open. Hated Draco for being so bloody obvious. She was happy, or at least happily deluded when she could pretend he didn’t have a drinking problem and wasn’t shagging anything with a enough oestrogen in it. Ignorance had been bliss. At least she’d been able to share a bed with someone, wake up to his shallow breathing, eat breakfast across from him each morning. She hadn’t been alone. Lonely, maybe. But not alone. And that, for Ginny, was the most important thing. After Ron’s first year she discovered what being truly alone was like. There’d been no one to play or talk with, Merlin, she’d have taken Fred and George’s teasing over the silence that had filled the Burrow that year. Then her high hopes of friendships and acceptance had been dashed in her first year of Hogwarts. Thanks to another Malfoy, oddly enough. No, Ginny Weasley could not be alone.

“Bastards!” Her yell came out sounding strangled, straining her tender vocal chords. It was a good job her show had finished the previous week and was only in early rehearsals for the next play, she didn’t think her voice could take singing or performing monologues twice a day, six days a week right now. Furthermore the fact her new show had only just commenced rehearsals she didn’t feel quite so bad about abandoning it for, for…“New York.”

“What the bloody he--” The door had been yanked open behind her and she found herself sprawled at her father’s feet. “Gin?”

“Hi.” She sniffed slightly, never gladder to see her daddy.

0x-

Half an hour later, she’d been plied with two cups of strong tea and a generous supply of homemade ginger biscuits. Her mother looked at her through glassy eyes, feeling helpless and wanting more than anything to stop her daughter’s pain. She’d been one of the family who’d supported the relationship between the two, she really had thought they’d work. He adored her, she saw it in his eyes whenever they were together. He’d clearly got problems and this was his way of coping, but - damn it - couldn’t he have dealt with his issues in a less destructive manner. Molly had always prided herself on being able to judge people’s character, and she was not going to write off Draco. He was good, she was certain of it.

“But, I’ve decided that I’m going to, to move.”

“Oh?”

“To New York.”

Molly nearly choked. Arthur simply looked unsurprised. His daughter was hurting and she was tearing herself away from the man she was desperately in love with. He could understand that everything here would remind her of her loss, although he had to say he wasn’t particularly fond of her choice of destination. Most simply wandered off to France or Spain for a couple of weeks until it died down, but the way she was talking of finding new agents and attempting to crack Broadway, while resigning from her current West End show he felt this was a slightly more permanent move for the twenty-seven-year-old.

“Ginny,” her mother finally broke the intense silence. “I know that you’re hurting right now.” She grabbed her daughter’s slim hand, “but this isn’t the answer. Don’t go chasing pipe dreams.”

Fresh tears lined her daughter’s cheeks, “Mum, it’s not the end of the world to take chances, my life was going stagnant and clearly Draco thought his was too. And it’s certainly not the end f the world to have pipe dreams and to chase rainbows.”

“I know it’s not the end of the world, Ginny, darling. But it’s hardly what I want.”

“And what about what I want, hm? I want to move on. I need to move on. I-I can’t stay here. Life is for living, and it’s not the end of the world until…until it’s gone.” And with that she stood, kissed both parents on the cheek and tiredly, dejectedly, made her way up to her old bedroom. It would be nice to sleep in her old duvet, surrounded by her childhood, her walls painted a ghastly pale pink.

Molly said nothing more, but gripped her husband tightly, knowing he was going to allow their daughter to leave them and set up a home on the other side of the world. Knowing that she too, would offer no further protest to Ginny. It wasn’t the end of the world, for her darling redheaded daughter, but she knew that it’d certainly feel like, for present anyway.

It’s not the end of the world if I leave him

It just might seem so tonight.

It’s not the end of the world, it’s a blessing

Musn’t wait ‘til it’s too late.

I’ve got to get away,

That’s the best thing to do.

It’s time for a change, if I stay put I’ll go crazy.

It would do me good to meet people I’ve never met.

And forget…

It’s not the end of the world to take chances,

Standing still is no big thrill,

It’s not the end of the world to chase rainbows.

I’ll be fine when I find mine.

It’s not the end of the world to move on.

It’s not the end of the world ‘til it’s gone.

Author’s Note: Yay. Third chapter.

Feel like I’m getting Ginny’s character a bit more now.

Like it? Review? Ta.

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