Touch
Florida was cold. Not just windy with a temperature, but cold. Mary wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach, stretching the tan suede jacket across her shoulders.
"Jesus, I know it's, like, December, but does it have to be so cold?" Shante came up besides Mary, draped in more clothing then her friend and face barely visible beneath the hood and knit cap. Mary could see her blonde cork-screw curls, though. Those she never could contain and they whipped around her face almost comically.
"This isn't really cold. You have no clue what cold really is. It just feels cold because you don't know cold. This is not cold."
Shante tried to laugh but her teeth were chattering so quick that it came out as more of a nervous giggle. "Trying to convince me or yourself, Winters? Aren't you from, like, Nebraska, or something?"
Mary watched to water crash into the beach, becoming waves far off in the distance before she could see. "Something. Yeah, something."
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The hospital was dead that day. Well, not dead, Mary mused, but devoid of business. Which, considering it was a hospital, was a good thing. An hour before her shift ended she opted to go home when it was offered. It was still cold, and was expected to be until the end of the week, at least. Mary checked the clock on the wall and saw she was early, but she knew they'd be up. She also knew she should wait until the agreed time. Mary never was exactly the cautious type.
She began to remove her jacket and all of its entrappings as she concentrated on one single image. Wandless magic was never her forte, but she could do it if she wanted it hard enough. It took a few minutes but her skin began to tingle, to itch, and then warm up to a burn that caused her to break into a sweat. Her scalp scrunched and tightened, then relaxed. Her throat was always the worst of it all. It felt like she had a week's worth a strap throat in under a minute. Forgetting to even remove her jacket she took a small handful of Floo Powder from the pot besides the fireplace and said the name of the place she most wanted to be three weeks from that day, but knew she wouldn't. Immersing her head in the flames she looked around the room and saw her mother sitting in the corner reading Witch Weekly.
"Mum?"
The crow's feet and laugh lines visible on her mother's face deepened.
"Ginny!"
Ginny nodded and returned Mrs. Weasley's smile. "Sorry I'm early, got off of work sooner than I expected to. Anyone else here?"
"You're father's due home any minute, and Fred and George will be home later tonight, but probably too late to talk to you. The store, you know."
Ginny tried to keep the unhappiness from her face. She knew.
"Everyone else?"
"They'll be here in about an hour."
"Then that'll give us time to catch up before. I miss you mum."
"I miss you too. I'll go and make us a cup of tea. Earl Grey still your favorite?"
Ginny didn't know how to tell her mom that she was so Americanized that tea tasted like water to her because of the coffee addiction she had picked up.
"Always."
They talked until her dad came home, and then talked until Ron and Hermione showed up with the kids who were too young to walk, let alone know who Ginny was. Charlie was late and Bill was back in Romania, but Ginny had talked to him a few days earlier when she made arrangements to Floo her parents through him. Ginny laughed and joked and smiled until her neck refused to move because it was locked in place. The first few times she had Flooed home they had asked her why she didn't just walk right through. Ginny lied and said that the long-distance full Floo made her sick for days. Her mom had stopped asking her to come home for Christmas after the second one. Ginny figured Draco needed her family on a holiday more than she did. He showed up to visit her parents on occasion, but the visits were irregular. Christmas day was the one day he never failed to show.
When Ginny was saying her goodbyes her mom asked everyone to step out of the room. Girl talk she claimed. Once Hermione had the boy of her set of twins in her arms and was out of the room Mrs. Weasley sat down besides the fire like she had done earlier while raising the cup of tea to her daughter's lips.
"I want you to come home this Christmas."
"Mum-"
"He's not coming this year, Ginny. He stopped by yesterday to let us know. He said he was sorry but he thought he needed to be elsewhere this year."
Ginny began to rub the back of her neck in earnest. She needed to get more blood flowing into it, She was starting to feel a bit light-headed.
"I can't, mum. The hospital, they need me. I didn't request off and they need me."
"I'm not going to remind you that other people need you too, Ginny. You already know that."
Mothers are good like that. They never do remind you of the things you can't forget anyway.
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It had been over six months since he had stood in her living room. Ginny remembered she had been thinking (remembering) a week before that his birthday was coming up. That he would be thirty. An off hand comment to some interviewer at her job and he was there. It was June sixth and he was standing in front of her. She had been terrified he would know it was her. Her shape wasn't different, but her features were changed slightly and the hair was a dull and unspectacular brown. She had blue eyes once, but it was more than just unpleasant to change her eye color so she eventually let that detail be.
She didn't tell anyone, but there really wasn't anyone to tell. Shante was the closest thing she had to a friend and even she didn't know the truth. Whenever Mary slipped into a British accent she just thought that Mary had an odd sense of humor. Eventually Shante started to use an overdramatic southern belle when she talked about her crushes and it became a real joke, something between them, personal, and Ginny clung to that like one would the handles on a roller coaster. That she had something real made her feel secure.
Except then Draco showed. After that, nothing seemed real.
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"I wonder if Mr. Malfoy is always this generous around Christmas!"
Ginny looked up from her paperwork, files, and other random things that she had to have done before she could leave. Three first-year Mediwitches had been standing next to her desk gossiping for the better part of the last ten minutes. This was the first piece of their rambling that had been worth hearing.
"How so?"
The blonde one (she thought her name was Betty) looked astonished.
"Come on, Mary, don't you usually know everything that happens around here? This morning Malfoy Inc. made a huge donation, I mean thousands to the hospital."
Ginny shrugged. "It'll go right back into his pockets anyway. We need supplies too badly for it not to."
"I doubt that. This morning's shipment came in. It was almost triple what we ordered."
Oh was all Ginny could manage.
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It had finally warmed up. People walked the beach in skirts and thin tops. Ginny sat with Shante on the boardwalk while they ate their fish wraps.
"You sleeping much honey?"
Ginny wiped at the lettuce that stuck to the end of her mouth. "Huh?"
"You've been sort of, I don't know, off for a while now. And you've had dark circles under your eyes too, more than a few months now."
"Way to tell a friend she looks like shit Shante."
"Hardy har har. You know what I mean. You always get a little down around Christmas, and you've been working two shifts on the twenty-fifth since I've known you. This year it just seems to be worse. I'm just checking on you, that's all. You good?"
"Superman does good."
Shante playfully flipped her off and let the subject drop. They'd known each other long enough that they knew when certain things needed to be left alone.
When Ginny got home she pulled a box from under her bed. Nothing special about it, it wasn't cut or decorated to be pretty. It was just a regular cardboard box that collected dust.
Except that nothing in her home had dust on it.
Ginny let her fingers trace the sharp edges of the lid before breathing in deeply and flinging it off. If it worked for band-aids, she thought�
The box was deeper and held more than it appeared to from the outside. On the top there were pictures. Those had been the last things Ginny had packed. Some were framed, some were loose; all were of her and him. In the pictures he looked so much younger than when she saw him last in more ways than age. The first one she lifted out was them together the first Christmas right after the war. It had been taken at her parents' home. Draco was looking towards his feet, head shaking to get the snow out of his hair. A small smile was fitted to his face. It was of his few real ones. Ginny's hand was on his chin and she was laughing up at him. They had been inside; the snow was part of a Snow Globe Exposed! Project that the twins were working on to have ready by the following Christmas.
Reverently Ginny took everything from the box, item by item. When it was empty she traced her fingers from corner to corner of the inside. It seemed smaller now.
Her room was cluttered.
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When sending a letter long distances Wizards don't use owls. They use geese. Ginny sent a goose out with a request a week before Christmas. It was something she couldn't trust herself to do over the Floo Network. In letters her voice wouldn't crack and stutter.
Four days later she Flooed to a flat located right outside of London that was the cheapest she could find. It was also the only one she wanted. The neighborhood was a mixture of Magical and Muggle, and a little on the unkempt side, but it was still nice. Small, but nice. She had expanded the box to fit more the day she emptied it, it needed to be empty to adjust the spell. Now it held everything she owned and weighed less then the coat on her back.
Ginny left it on the floor next to the fireplace. She spent the next hour being sick in the bathroom. It had nothing to do with Floo sickness.
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Her mom smelled like ginger and cranberries and turkey. She had been cooking since the night before. Her father looked at her with awe and happiness. Hermione let her hold the babies until they fell asleep in her arms. The moment she was free her brothers took her outside for a game of Quidditch. Harry showed up in the afternoon with his arm around Pansy's waist and their two kids on their heels. He hugged her like he missed her, but not in any way that he shouldn't with a happy (that's what she's heard) marriage and two beautiful children. They talked for a while since in all her Floos home he's the one person that was never there. He was one of the few people that was not aware of the layer of thin ice that covered the topic of her and Draco. Ginny should have figured he'd be the one to break it.
"Does Malfoy know you're back?"
He was also the one person who she would not talk to about Draco.
The stars were out by the time Ginny left. Her mom had begged her to stay but Ginny promised to come by in the morning. It alleviated her to an extent, but she still held on the Ginny like she might disappear. As soon as she was off the property Ginny did. It was always easier to make herself into Mary than to change back to normal. Once her hair was the familiar lack-luster color that she came to know better than her own red Ginny Apparated to Malfoy Manor.
The gates were surprisingly not Warded. Ginny had expected it to be harder to get in than to just walk to the front door. Knocking should have been the easy part.
Eventually the cold chased her hand to the oak, the rapping of her fist steady and insistent. She was reminded of door to door sales people and Girl Scouts with cookies to sell.
She also didn't expect it to be Draco to answer the door. Ginny pictured him living with House Elves, having lavish parties, and having beautiful women on his arm. Even though she knew he wasn't the type and what information she had gleaned about him had nothing of romantic mentions, it was a fear of hers. A fear she knew she didn't have a right to.
"Yes?" His voice came out in a deep drawl, obviously heavy with sleep. His flannel sleep pants and white shirt she recognized from the days they were together. There were holes in the knees now in patches in some others places. They had been his favorite.
"Sorry to bother you Dr- Mr. Malfoy," she didn't even have the courage to show up as herself so Ginny didn't figure she had the right to use his first name.
Draco rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "No bother, pleasant to have company today, actually. I had just-"
He had finally focused on her. Ginny knew it because she saw his knuckles go white where his hand grasped the edge of the door. Any doubt Ginny had that he knew it was her in Florida faded in that moment. He moved to the side and pulled the door open wider.
"You must be freezing Ms. Winters. Come in, come in."
Ginny did, her feet dragging like a child's over his doorway. Once inside she felt his hands on her shoulders and the door swung shut. Ginny froze-
"Your jacket?"
-and then relaxed and she felt his fingers ghost over her neck to help her remove the heavy coat.
"Sorry about my attire. I wasn't expecting anyone, regardless of how-"
"It's your home. This, all," Ginny waved her arms around without direction. She hoped it conveyed her meaning. Draco nodded.
"So it is."
"You shouldn't be apologizing for how you are in your own home. It's, well, yours and it should be where you're most comfortable."
Draco looked down to his feet, something he did when he was trying not to say something; to distract himself. With the old white shirt and flannel pants hung low on his hips he seemed nothing close to comfortable in his own home, like he didn't match it. Like he didn't belong. The tall ceilings and marble floors that met up to the elaborately molded woodwork framing the walls did not suit the man in front of her. She knew with a certainty that there was a time when it did. She also knew that the Draco she knew, the Draco that had brought her oranges and mangos, who had made her hot chocolate and snuck Fire Whiskey with her was never the Draco that belonged in this home.
Neither was the Draco that just welcomed a stranger before he realized who she was.
"Yeah," he looked up, seemed to take in his surroundings. Ginny wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was.
She also wondered if his bare feet were cold on this stone floor.
"Would you like something to drink Ms. Winters? I have tea, coffee, you Americans prefer coffee, correct? I also have some chocolate, or eggnog for the season."
"Chocolate. That would be nice."
Draco hung her jacket in the closet near the door. He walked past her, smiled gently, as if his face might break if it was any wider. She followed.
He led her to a room that she could only guess was a formal sitting room. He motioned for her to take a seat and then excused himself. Ginny felt her mind questioning her actions, moving a mile a minute, but she was faster, catching her stray thoughts as they flew about in her skull. She had never come back to England because she had known she would see him. Not on the street in passing or in a picture, but had known that she would do this, come to his door. She had made up a story about a red head nurse that had appeared for a few days to help hoping he would show, just so she could glimpse him. She spent her Christmas at work to keep herself from going home and rushing into his arms, whether they were open or not.
When he came to her home months earlier she had hidden in Mary. Just like she was hiding now.
Ginny jumped when she heard a curse from the doorway. Draco had two mugs in his hands and was limping slightly.
"Sorry. Stubbed my toe. It's dark in here. I didn't see it. I mean, this is my house, I should already know where everything's at."
"You're rambling." He rambled when he had something to say. Ginny knew everything he did when he had something to say that he thought he shouldn't.
"So I am." He looked guilty.
"Away on business much?"
Draco handed Ginny her mug. She smiled and brought it to her lips. "Too much."
They sat in silence. Ginny felt her skin vibrate from his nearness, only a few feet away from her. She had forgotten what it was like to be close to him, to see him across from her. He hadn't changed much. His shoulders were still broad, yet slender. His wrists still more delicate than they should be on a man, but she had always loved the way they were the introduction to his hands. Long fingers clasped at the mug, one idly tapping at its side. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and his hair fell in front of his eyes, hiding them. Ginny didn't need to see them to know what color they were or that under the white fringe they were intently focused on her.
"How long will you be in town for, Ms. Winters? Taking a Christmas away from the hospital? They spoke your praises while I was there about your work ethic. Your devotion to them was as evident as theirs to you."
"As flattering as that is to hear I have to admit that this is not a holiday for me."
"Oh?"
"I tendered my resignation before moving here earlier in the week."
The tapping sound stopped. "Oh."
"I found a place on Evert Drive, about fifteen minutes outside of London. Know the area?"
"Yes. Very well."
Ginny could write books on the years she had spent with Draco, studying him. With him it had always been more about what he didn't say than what he did. She had known he loved her long before he ever admitted it to her. She had known his insecurities about them, and how to calm them when they went to far. She had also known how to push him away when he needed her to hold him and reassure him the most. Ginny had spent years wondering if she should have stayed, should have let him know that they were ok, were going to be ok, and that he really was all she ever wanted. The day she left she was just tired of trying. She felt like she had been doing that since she was sixteen, telling him he was all the things for her he didn't believe he was. With time and distance she had known, just known, that it had been her that had pushed him away and then walked away.
Draco's shoulders, and finely cut arms were clenched tight. His jaw immobile, a harder line than it was a moment before. He was waiting for her to finish. He was waiting for her.
Nothing else could have made her feel worse than what she knew at that moment. That he had waited.
"Do you go to every hospital or company you sign distribution contracts with? Do you personally, um, interview members of the staff?"
"No, I have people that do that for me." His answer is terse, sharp. She knows he had to force it out.
"Then what prompts a visit from you?"
"There are certain characteristics that my people know to report back to me about places if they arise."
That he had looked for her.
"Such as?"
"Red hair, cinnamon eyes, a soft spot for places in need."
Ginny put down her mug. She was surprised that she hadn't dropped it before then.
"Did you find that?"
The tapping started again. Ginny could barely hear it over the sound of the blood in her hears.
"I don't know. I stopped sending people. I was starting to believe that she didn't want to be found."
"She didn't."
"What does she want, then?"
Ginny didn't realize she had closed her eyes until she felt Draco's palms against her jaw, his fingertips at her cheekbones, going upward. His fingers were smooth, soft, and familiar. Ginny began to pull within herself, to feel things shift and change. Her throat never once hurt, her skin didn't burn, and her scalp didn't do that thing that afterwards made her skin want to crawl. Later she would think on it and suppose that she was too distracted by Draco touching her, by the scent that long ago she had started to associate with home.
Ginny opened her eyes. Draco was less than a breath away from her, eyes closed and waiting. Ginny was tired of making him wait, but she didn't want to be the same place she was before, still waiting herself.
"You know."
His eyes opened. He smiled. A real one.
Then he kissed her.
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