♥ "The Hard Years" for darkrosefanfics ♥
Title: The Hard Years
Rating: T
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Vague allusion to events in the series. Does not follow the epilogue.
Summary: Sometimes help comes from the strangest source.
A/N: Hope this does not disappoint too much.
The Hard Years
1998
They buried Fred on a sunny day and Ginny could only wonder how the weather could be so good when everything was so wrong.
In front of her, dad shovelled the first scoop of dirt onto Fred’s coffin, his face aged by sorrow, mum stood next to him sobbing, her tears never once stopped since the beginning of the funeral, her brothers, all lost, tried their best not to cry as they buried one of their own.
Around them the birds chipped and a soft breeze blew across the cemetery, it was as if the Earth was trying its hardest to erase all trace of the war that Fred had died for. In ten years what would remain of Fred’s sacrifice? Who would remember him for what he had done? Very few, she was sure, and that made her both furious and sad. The war ended but her family was now incomplete, like a bird without its wings, or an elephant without its trunk, or a lion without its teeth... Peace had come but Ginny never felt more at war, never more empty.
--
Lucious Malfoy was not known to be a man of many words, but on the night before the start of the war trial, he had a long conversation with his son. The order of business was, of course, financial considerations: the details of the foreign accounts he had under faux names must be passed on, the location of the keys to all of his security boxes must be disclosed, and the fact he had transferred all his assets to his son without the latter’s knowledge must be revealed.
“The ministry may put me on war trial,” he explained when Draco asked why; the implication of such an event need not be voiced. At the end of the meeting the father and son had one last drink together in front of the fireplace at the study. There were no hugging, no tears, and no sentimental fatherly speech, there was simply a toast.
Raising his Scotch glass, Lucius said to his son with a wry, ironic smile, “To the future.”
-
Hogwarts became considerably duller with the graduation of the golden trio. It was only then when Ginny realized just how few real friends she had in her own year. On some weekends when Harry was not busy with catching the number of Death Eaters that got away, he would visit her. She was always happy when she saw him, he was like a beam of sunlight in her otherwise rather bleak world, and she loved him even more for his visits.
Most of the time; however, she spent her free time alone. She spent a lot of time flying. Quidditch was her escape from the insistent ache of grief that followed her around like a shadow (the hallways of Hogwarts were full of reminders to her dead brother and she had no where to hide). For the most part, the arrangement suited her well - there were more to worry about than loneliness when a bludger was only two feet behind her and she needed the practice to become the star chaser she aspired to be - but on some nights she would inevitably feel bored and lonely.
On one such night, she decided to explore the second floor’s bathroom, a place she had not been since her first year and her mishaps in the Chamber of Secrets. Perhaps, she thought, she could talk to Moaning Myrtle, perhaps, in their shared loneliness they could be even friends.
She was surprised when she found Moaning Myrtle conversing with a visitor. Curious, she stood outside of the bathroom door and listened in on the conversation. “You are unhappy,” the ghost said with surprising tenderness, “Please... please tell me what’s wrong. I can help.”
“No one can help,” the visitor replied with a sigh, “They arrested my father.”
“Didn’t your father help end the war?” asked the ghost, “You should remind them.”
“It’s useless. They remember what they want to remember.”
There was another sigh and suddenly Ginny realized who the speaker was. The male voice was so uncharacteristically melancholy that it took her until then to recognize it as Draco Malfoy’s.
She quickly reached for her wand, Malfoy was no longer a student at Hogwarts and his past made her doubt his intentions even if the odd situation seemed to suggest otherwise. She rushed into the bathroom with her wands in front of her. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
Malfoy froze like a deer caught by headlights. He was leaning on one of the many sinks, and Ginny could see from the reflection of the sink mirror that he was shocked. She noted with relief that he was not armed.
Still, she held her wand up. “What are you doing here,” she asked again.
And this time, he replied, “What does it look like?”
“Trespassing,” she answered curtly, her eyes narrowing, “How did you get in here?”
When he said nothing, she warned, “Start speaking, or I will report you now.”
It was as if he had not realized that possibility before because genuine fear had quickly spread on his face. Myrtle, who until then was only watching on the sideline, noticed this and flew in front of Ginny. “He means no harm,” she said earnestly in her piercing voice, “He is only here to visit me.”
“An ex-deatheater sneaked into the Hogwarts to talk to a ghost,” Ginny shook her head, “I am sorry but that doesn’t sound likely at all. Petrificu-”
She stopped mid curse. Malfoy had fallen on his knees. Her first thought was that he had fainted, but it soon became apparent that he was bowing to her. “I came into the school through one of the secret passages. I don’t know what I was thinking; I just really wanted to talk to Myrtle. Father...” he paused and Ginny thought perhaps it was all a front to get her to drop the wand, that perhaps he would stand up and become the normal Malfoy again - but that didn’t happen. Instead she began to notice droplets of liquid landing onto the washroom tiles under him. He was crying and Ginny did not know what to do.
“Father really cannot afford a scandal right now,” Draco Malfoy said finally, his voice quiet and broken, “Please... don’t report me... no one can know... I... I beg of you, Weasley.”
At such a sorry sight Ginny could not help but lower her wand. “Will you promise to never sneak in like this again?”
“Yes.”
Ginny could not belief what she was about to say and do - a Weasley agreeing to help a Malfoy - really, what had the world come to? But then again, she reminded herself as she roughly pulled Malfoy back onto his feet, that it was even harder to believe a Malfoy was begging and bowing to her just a moment ago.
“We need to be quiet, you need to leave before anyone else sees you,” she said all business, and darted to the door to make sure no one was at the hallway. “Let’s go.”
-
1999
Draco felt numb as a robed man with ancient face read his father’s verdict. Next to him, his mother began sobbing quietly, her hands covering her grief stricken face. He put his arm around her, but did not turn to her, instead he watched his father.
His father looked tired and resigned, he looked frail, and for the first time in his life: old. It was as if he had aged ten years since the beginning of the ten months trial. Draco wanted to say something, but what? The things other people say to their parents never seemed to fit in his relationship with his father. In the end, he settled for a silent nod. His father nodded back as the guards led him away. They were walking him to Azkaban but it may as well be to death, twenty years in Azkaban would break any man’s spirit and Draco knew his father was no exception.
-
Molly Weasley was a woman of many words. On the night before her daughter’s first professional quidditch game she cooked a feast and made sure every member of her very large family was present to celebrate the occasion. “I am so proud of you,” she mused out loud as she watched her daughter put on her shoes next to Harry.
Her daughter laughed as she stood up. “I know Mum, you told me just five minutes ago.” She smiled and walked forward to hug her mother.
“I love you,” Molly told her daughter, tears in her eyes.
Pulling back from the hug her daughter replied earnestly, “I love you even more.”
-
They hated him, Draco knew even before the burly man walked up to him and hit him in the stomach. He should have listened to his mother and not come to Dragon Alley, but with his father in jail his home was filled with so much dread and gloom that he felt he would have suffocated had he not leave the confines. Now, of course, on the floor and clutching his stomach in pain he could not help but think how right his mother had been - he really should not have come here.
Clutching the wand in his pocket, he wordlessly erected a shield around himself before scrambling to his feet and running away. The man chased after him and he could hear laughter - laughter - behind him. He apparated at the first opportunity to somewhere... anywhere...
The familiar pull was comforting as the commotion around him melted away. When he landed on solid ground again he looked around him and saw that he was in the cemetery. The irony did not escape him, he chuckled dryly once before setting off the same gravestone he had always head to when he visit the graveyard.
Snape’s grave was a simple marble slab with his name edged on. It was so unobtrusive that it took Draco a good half hour to find during his first visit, though he had since memorized the location. He sat down on the grass in front of it and began to talk as he always did. Speaking to a man who had died in part for him was therapeutic, even if he could not really hear him, especially since no one could really hear him. “I don’t really know why I am here today, but I apparated and this is where I ended up,” he said honestly before sighing.
He had dissected everything Snape had ever said to him and realized just how much he was on his side the whole time - that had he listened to all his warnings and teachings perhaps he could have not repeated the mistakes Snape had made himself and prevented everything distasteful that was happening in his life now. “You were right, Snape, of course you were always right.”
A soft breeze blew across the cemetery then and even though he knew it was not an affirmation, he took it as one.
“I am sorry for so many things. But who would listen and forgive me now?” he asked to the world and no one answered.
-
On a particularly lazy night, in which Harry did not need to work late and Ginny got off practice early, the two lovers flew to the country side to watch stars. Sometime in the night they began to play a two persons variation of ‘truth or dare.’
It was Ginny’s turn to ask. She pondered for a moment and grin when she thought of a good question. “Okay, who did you have a crush in when you were nine?”
“Jenna White, she had the longest pigtails and I have always wanted to pull them,” Harry replied easily, “But of course I now think your hair is way more pullable.” He reached out and playfully pulled a handful of her red curly hair.
“Hey!”
“Okay, I will stop,” Harry laughed as he moved away from her swipe. “My turn. What is the strangest thing you have seen in Hogwarts?”
Draco Malfoy breaking into Hogwarts to speak to Moaning Myrtle, she wanted to say, but didn’t because she promised him to not tell anyway. So instead she said, “Moaning Myrtle defending Draco Malfoy.”
“Oh, you caught him talking to her in the washroom too?”
Curious about the beginning Malfoy’s relationship with the ghost, Ginny carefully probed on, “Yeah, they seemed to get along surprisingly well, don’t they?”
“That poor git, I saw him in sixth year crying in the boy’s washroom once with her trying to comfort him. I would say she was probably Malfoy’s only friend by seventh year.”
“Who would have thought,” Ginny pondered out loud. Harry nodded and they fell into a stretch of silence. Ginny remembered how much she hated him once. Yet, having seen him fallen so far with his father in Azkaban, their family home publically seized last month, and the few times she had seen him since, had made her pity him. “I see him sometime at the cemetery visiting Snape’s grave when I visit Fred. I don’t think he believes the world would ever give him a chance but I think he deserves one,” she said and realized she believed it.
-
“Mother, how was father?” he asked when his mother returned to their apartment.
“He is not well,” she managed to say before her throat clogged and her eyes watered. Draco rushed to her. He wrapped his arms around her frail body and led her to the arm chair. She began to cry. “He is so thin, and he is...Oh Draco, he is losing himself.”
Draco enclosed her in a tight embrace, “It’s alright,” he tried to sooth her, but his voice was wavering. He called for his house elf for a sleeping potion. His mother needed rest he knew, and she would get none of that today without help.
His mother had barely fallen asleep when the door bell rang. Draco left his mother to the care of her house elf and answered the door. To his horror, it was Potter.
“What are you doing here?” he whispered, taking care not to wake his mother. “You are not welcome here.”
“Relax, Malfoy,” Potter said, standing his ground, “I am here to make you a deal.”
-
2000
The clock struck twelve and whole Weasley family lifted their Champaign glasses and cheered for the beginning of a new millennium. Harry took a spoon near him and hit his glass to quiet the room. “I would like to ask a special question, everyone.”
He turned to her, kneeled on one knee, and took out a velvet box. Ginny could feel her heart beat a million beats as the room filled with suspenseful silence. “Ginerva Molly Weasley, you are the kindest most beautiful woman I have ever met. Would you make me the happiest of man and marry me?”
With her family looking on with anticipation, Ginny grinned and said yes.
-
Draco Malfoy stared at his own reflection in the washroom mirror in his somewhere in a 400sq apartment in Mong Kok, the seediest area of Hong Kong. He watched as the effect of the polyjuice potion waned and the face of the Chinese man he had been impersonating melted away. He could not help but think how very foreign his own face looked when the transformation settled. For a year he was Lee Wing Kai, the cruel deputy dragon master of a Hong Kong Triad that was smuggling dark objects into Britain, and to dispel suspicion he had done so many despicable, horrible things...
And the truth was, sometime in the last twelve months, it stopped being just an act. The guilt that accompanied him initially had faded, that coupled with his growing nonchalance toward mindless violence made him realize one thing: he was becoming more like the real Lee Wing Kai every day. He was scared of losing himself, so Potter’s perfect little plan be damned, he ended everything.
He was Draco Malfoy again, but nothing could make him feel less disgusted with the world, himself included.
-
It was one of those games that Ginny Weasley was not particularly proud of. The Harpies were playing an away game against their long time rival Puddlemere that turned ugly fast when the referees did not make the call on the Puddlemere beater that kicked their seeker. By the time the game ended with a tie, five players had been knocked off their brooms and three of them had to be levitated off the pitch.
Eager to escape the chaos and any questioning from reporters, she apparated the first chance she had across town and walked into the smallest, emptiest pub she could find. There were only five patrons at the Lee’s Family Pub when she walked in. four were chatting quietly at the corner and one was drinking alone at the bar. She made her way to the bar, sat down a few seats down from the lone drinker, and quickly ordered two of the house special.
She downed the drink in two swigs before ordering another. While waiting for her third drink, she took a better look at the man sitting down the bar and realized he was none other than Draco Malfoy. She debated for a moment whether or not to approach him, before realizing she had nothing to lose so she walked over and tapped on his shoulder.
“Thought I should say hello to my old school mate,” she said as she sat down next to him.
“Weasley,” he greeted quietly, not missing a beat. If he was surprised he hid it well. “That was a horrible game even by the Harpies’ standard.”
Ginny ran her hand through her hair, and gave a guilty chuckle.
“And I suppose,” Malfoy continued after taking another sip of his Scotch, “congratulation is in order?”
“You heard?”
He shrugged. “It was hard not to, your engagement pictures were all over the news for weeks,” he explained before adding, “and I wasn’t even in Britain.”
Ginny laughed self-consciously. The media did in fact over play her engagement a fair bit, but what could she do when she was marrying The-Boy-Who-Lived? “Were you on vacation?”
“I wish.”
“Working then? What are you doing these days anyway?”
Malfoy raised his eye-brow. “Thought you of all people would know since your Fiancé told me it was your idea.”
“What?”
He thought for a moment, trying to decide how much to tell. In the end, he settled for a vague answer, “I do work for your fiancé. Anyway, when is the wedding?”
Ginny made a mental note to ask Harry about this later. “There’s no date yet. I want to wait a little to focus on my career.”
“Never thought you were the career type,” he noted, “but I approve.”
She laughed. The absurdity of the fact she was having a civil - and voluntary - conversation suddenly hit her. For six years she shared a school with this man but they never talked to each other in good terms, but here they were talking naturally like they were friends. “Careful, you are approving a Weasley. The world may soon freeze over.”
“I have to approve, you are going to be one of the few people who can put Potter in his place,” he said with a small smile before adding with a smirk, “Besides, who said I didn’t approve of you before.”
“Oh please, you only knew my name because of Harry, admit it.”
“Your hair made it fairly easy to figure out your last name,” he retorted dryly.
She hit him lightly on his arm. “Git.” And just like that a bond was formed.
-
When Draco received an owl a week after, he was not expecting it to be from Ginny Weasley. It read:
I found out the gist of what you are doing from Harry. I just want to let you know it was not my idea, I only told him I think you deserved a chance. Keep safe and keep me posted when you are back to Britain again. Ginny
-
In December, Ginny Weasley received a small package from Draco Malfoy with an assortment of oriental style quidditch accessories and a note that read:
About to finish a mission in Shanghai. Will be back to Britain coming January to repossess the Manor. Don’t slack off on quidditch practice just because it’s winter. Merry Christmas. Draco
2001
An owl brought him a 2001 Harpies season ticket from Ginny Weasley on New Years Day with the message: I am not a slacker, prat. Happy New Year. Ginny
-
It was a sunny day when he brought his mother back to the Malfoy Manor as a surprise for her coming birthday. She broke down in what he hoped to be tears of joy when she stepped into their home, their real home, for the first time in two years. “We are back for good?”
“For good, mother.”
He had not seen her smile once in the past three years, but there she was, smiling and laughing as she she explored the manor like a child at a fair. It was rewarding to see her happy and it made him think that perhaps all the danger, the sleepless nights, the horrible missions... everything he did in the past year and a half and everything he will have to do as part of his deal with Potter was worth it.
-
When an eagle owl brought a package of specialty food from Albania to her, she knew exactly who it was from without reading the unsigned note attached: In Albania. All is well.
-
Draco Malfoy woke up to what sounded like finger drumming on glass. He tried to ignore it but when the tapping did not stop Draco got out of his bed and stumbled to the living room. A few near misses and many swear words later he managed to find the source of the insistent noise: an eagle owl, his mother’s owl to be exact. He opened the window to let the miserable eagle owl in. The bird did not fare well in Singapore’s humidity, and the fact gave Draco some satisfaction.
“Serves you right for waking me up,” Draco snarled as he untied the letter from the owl’s out-stretched right leg.
Draco sobered when he read the letter. Written by his mother in uncharacteristically ill cursive, it told him that his father had died in Azkaban the night prior.
The news was not a surprise, more a confirmation. He wasn’t sure how he felt and perhaps it was a mix of many things. His father had transformed in his life time from a man he looked up to, to a man he questioned, to a man he pitied. He loved him, he never stopped loving him, but though he would never admit this to his mother, his father was dead to him ever since he entered Azkaban. And yet, surprisingly, or perhaps inevitably, the finality of the news still brought forth a fresh wave of grief he was unprepared for. For the first time in years, he cried.
-
There was an owl for him the next day from Ginny: I am sorry about your father. Let me know the time and place of the funeral, I would like to be there.
-
2002
Ginny Weasley woke up and found herself attached to an assortment of magical machines. For a moment she was confused then she remembered what happened: being knocked off her bloom by a spell while diving for a goal in the finals of the British and Irish Quidditch League Cup. “Did we win?”
“You are awake!” cried Harry, she turned and found him sitting next to her looking very tired. She wondered how long she had been in the hospital. “The Harpies won thanks to you. Your teammates just left, actually.” He bent forward to give her a hug before standing up. “I am going to call the healers.”
It was only when he left that she began to feel it. The potion dulled pain at her left side. She struggled to push herself up and saw to her horror an empty space where her left leg should be. She screamed.
-
There was an owl for her a few days after she left the hospital from Draco: I tracked the man who did that to you in Spain, he will not get away with what he had done.
-
2003
She felt like she could not breathe in heavy tension in the room. Her family were talking and laughing but everything felt so very forced and restrained. It was the beginning of another quidditch season but no one mentioned a word about it. It made her angry. She did not need them to protect her this way. She lost a leg, she could not play anymore, but she was still there.
Harry was the worst amongst them. He seemed to tip toed around her these days. The healers had mentioned she should refrain from physical activities, and Harry had taken their words to heart. She was not even allowed to wash a dish, and whenever she suggested that they should go out for a date he would smile and say he liked to stay home instead. It was like he thought she would crumple into dust if she was hit by the wind.
He was being thoughtful, perhaps, but his love was smothering her and it left her with no choice but one.
-
The six months mission ended when he finally confronted his mark in Malaysia. There was a horrible duel and a huge mess but it was all over. Finishing his missions cleanly was clearly rather weak point for him, but as he was the only field agent with a perfect success rate, Potter took the clean up as part of the cost and never took any action beyond verbal reprimands against his unorthodox methods.
He was about to leave St. Mungo’s after getting the more serious wounds he sustained during the mission healed when he saw her hobbling in for her checkup. He had corresponded with her through owls and had seen her whenever he was back in the country, but he was still not quite used to seeing her with her prosthetic left leg.
“It’s not polite to stare, Malfoy,” Weasley said when she had gotten closer.
“Does it hurt?”
She chuckled darkly. “The leg? Or the fact everyone still seems to move so damn carefully around me?”
He felt his heart twist at her bitterness. It was like watching himself five years ago and it was painful to see. He wanted to help her, he needed to help her. “I know a few things about dealing with dark curses after effects. As for the latter, I suggest you stop acting like a child.”
“You understand nothing.”
Draco took a step toward her, “You know, at fifteen I thought life had taught me undeniably that surrender, in its place, was as honourable as resistance, especially if one had no choice. I don’t think I believe that, anymore... I am not so naive as to think I can change the world by will, but now I think there’s a place for resistance.” It was the first time in their unlikely friendship that he mentioned his past. It hurt to bring everything up but he had to make a point.
Ginny glared and began to hobble away but he stopped her by grabbing her wrist.
“I almost did not accept Potter’s deal, you know. It was easier to run away and blame the world for my misfortune, but when I looked at my mother I realized what I had to do,” Draco explained as he ran his fingers through his hair. “You need to make a road for yourself, if not for yourself, at least for your family that cares about you.”
“You don’t understand anything!”
“I understand everything, Ginny,” he tried one last time, “I am leaving tomorrow and won’t be back again for a long time. But when you are ready to be an adult again, owl me, I will be there.” With that, he let her wrist go.
-
2004
She owled him six months later and was surprised to see a quick response. They met up two days later at the same rundown pub they met so long ago. He handed her one of glass when the bartender brought him two of his ‘usual.’ Ginny took a sip and nearly spitted out what she had. “Blood hell, that was strong.”
Draco laughed, “It does the job and quickly.”
“No shit,” she said as she took another sip, this time she held it in much better.
They drank in silence for a time, each deep in thought. Then, “I didn’t think you would actually owl me.”
“I wasn’t going to at first,” she admitted, “I was angry at what you said, but then I realized how right you were. May be it’s too late.”
Draco shook his head. “I heard there was an opening at the Daily Prophet for a commentator,” he suggested gently and placed a business card in her hand. “If you want the job, just call him. It will give you a fresh start.”
Later at night, Ginny walked home for the apparition point with Draco (a gentleman always walk a lady home, he insisted), and thought about many things. She thought about her past, her family, her future, and finally her thoughts settled on the man walking next to her. “I think I want to see you more often,” she finally said and turned to him.
At first he did not react then slowly his lips tilted up into a grin. “Me too.”
Original Prompt that we sent you
Briefly describe what you'd like to receive in your fic
The tone/mood of the fic: Angst. Realism.
An element/line of dialogue/object you would specifically like in your fic: The following quote (as a prompt): "At fifteen life had taught me undeniably that surrender, in its place, was as honorable as resistance, especially if one had no choice." (Maya Angelou)
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: Any.
Canon or AU? Any.
Deal Breakers (anything you don't want?): Too much fluff or OOC-ness.
Rating: T
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Vague allusion to events in the series. Does not follow the epilogue.
Summary: Sometimes help comes from the strangest source.
A/N: Hope this does not disappoint too much.
The Hard Years
1998
They buried Fred on a sunny day and Ginny could only wonder how the weather could be so good when everything was so wrong.
In front of her, dad shovelled the first scoop of dirt onto Fred’s coffin, his face aged by sorrow, mum stood next to him sobbing, her tears never once stopped since the beginning of the funeral, her brothers, all lost, tried their best not to cry as they buried one of their own.
Around them the birds chipped and a soft breeze blew across the cemetery, it was as if the Earth was trying its hardest to erase all trace of the war that Fred had died for. In ten years what would remain of Fred’s sacrifice? Who would remember him for what he had done? Very few, she was sure, and that made her both furious and sad. The war ended but her family was now incomplete, like a bird without its wings, or an elephant without its trunk, or a lion without its teeth... Peace had come but Ginny never felt more at war, never more empty.
--
Lucious Malfoy was not known to be a man of many words, but on the night before the start of the war trial, he had a long conversation with his son. The order of business was, of course, financial considerations: the details of the foreign accounts he had under faux names must be passed on, the location of the keys to all of his security boxes must be disclosed, and the fact he had transferred all his assets to his son without the latter’s knowledge must be revealed.
“The ministry may put me on war trial,” he explained when Draco asked why; the implication of such an event need not be voiced. At the end of the meeting the father and son had one last drink together in front of the fireplace at the study. There were no hugging, no tears, and no sentimental fatherly speech, there was simply a toast.
Raising his Scotch glass, Lucius said to his son with a wry, ironic smile, “To the future.”
-
Hogwarts became considerably duller with the graduation of the golden trio. It was only then when Ginny realized just how few real friends she had in her own year. On some weekends when Harry was not busy with catching the number of Death Eaters that got away, he would visit her. She was always happy when she saw him, he was like a beam of sunlight in her otherwise rather bleak world, and she loved him even more for his visits.
Most of the time; however, she spent her free time alone. She spent a lot of time flying. Quidditch was her escape from the insistent ache of grief that followed her around like a shadow (the hallways of Hogwarts were full of reminders to her dead brother and she had no where to hide). For the most part, the arrangement suited her well - there were more to worry about than loneliness when a bludger was only two feet behind her and she needed the practice to become the star chaser she aspired to be - but on some nights she would inevitably feel bored and lonely.
On one such night, she decided to explore the second floor’s bathroom, a place she had not been since her first year and her mishaps in the Chamber of Secrets. Perhaps, she thought, she could talk to Moaning Myrtle, perhaps, in their shared loneliness they could be even friends.
She was surprised when she found Moaning Myrtle conversing with a visitor. Curious, she stood outside of the bathroom door and listened in on the conversation. “You are unhappy,” the ghost said with surprising tenderness, “Please... please tell me what’s wrong. I can help.”
“No one can help,” the visitor replied with a sigh, “They arrested my father.”
“Didn’t your father help end the war?” asked the ghost, “You should remind them.”
“It’s useless. They remember what they want to remember.”
There was another sigh and suddenly Ginny realized who the speaker was. The male voice was so uncharacteristically melancholy that it took her until then to recognize it as Draco Malfoy’s.
She quickly reached for her wand, Malfoy was no longer a student at Hogwarts and his past made her doubt his intentions even if the odd situation seemed to suggest otherwise. She rushed into the bathroom with her wands in front of her. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
Malfoy froze like a deer caught by headlights. He was leaning on one of the many sinks, and Ginny could see from the reflection of the sink mirror that he was shocked. She noted with relief that he was not armed.
Still, she held her wand up. “What are you doing here,” she asked again.
And this time, he replied, “What does it look like?”
“Trespassing,” she answered curtly, her eyes narrowing, “How did you get in here?”
When he said nothing, she warned, “Start speaking, or I will report you now.”
It was as if he had not realized that possibility before because genuine fear had quickly spread on his face. Myrtle, who until then was only watching on the sideline, noticed this and flew in front of Ginny. “He means no harm,” she said earnestly in her piercing voice, “He is only here to visit me.”
“An ex-deatheater sneaked into the Hogwarts to talk to a ghost,” Ginny shook her head, “I am sorry but that doesn’t sound likely at all. Petrificu-”
She stopped mid curse. Malfoy had fallen on his knees. Her first thought was that he had fainted, but it soon became apparent that he was bowing to her. “I came into the school through one of the secret passages. I don’t know what I was thinking; I just really wanted to talk to Myrtle. Father...” he paused and Ginny thought perhaps it was all a front to get her to drop the wand, that perhaps he would stand up and become the normal Malfoy again - but that didn’t happen. Instead she began to notice droplets of liquid landing onto the washroom tiles under him. He was crying and Ginny did not know what to do.
“Father really cannot afford a scandal right now,” Draco Malfoy said finally, his voice quiet and broken, “Please... don’t report me... no one can know... I... I beg of you, Weasley.”
At such a sorry sight Ginny could not help but lower her wand. “Will you promise to never sneak in like this again?”
“Yes.”
Ginny could not belief what she was about to say and do - a Weasley agreeing to help a Malfoy - really, what had the world come to? But then again, she reminded herself as she roughly pulled Malfoy back onto his feet, that it was even harder to believe a Malfoy was begging and bowing to her just a moment ago.
“We need to be quiet, you need to leave before anyone else sees you,” she said all business, and darted to the door to make sure no one was at the hallway. “Let’s go.”
-
1999
Draco felt numb as a robed man with ancient face read his father’s verdict. Next to him, his mother began sobbing quietly, her hands covering her grief stricken face. He put his arm around her, but did not turn to her, instead he watched his father.
His father looked tired and resigned, he looked frail, and for the first time in his life: old. It was as if he had aged ten years since the beginning of the ten months trial. Draco wanted to say something, but what? The things other people say to their parents never seemed to fit in his relationship with his father. In the end, he settled for a silent nod. His father nodded back as the guards led him away. They were walking him to Azkaban but it may as well be to death, twenty years in Azkaban would break any man’s spirit and Draco knew his father was no exception.
-
Molly Weasley was a woman of many words. On the night before her daughter’s first professional quidditch game she cooked a feast and made sure every member of her very large family was present to celebrate the occasion. “I am so proud of you,” she mused out loud as she watched her daughter put on her shoes next to Harry.
Her daughter laughed as she stood up. “I know Mum, you told me just five minutes ago.” She smiled and walked forward to hug her mother.
“I love you,” Molly told her daughter, tears in her eyes.
Pulling back from the hug her daughter replied earnestly, “I love you even more.”
-
They hated him, Draco knew even before the burly man walked up to him and hit him in the stomach. He should have listened to his mother and not come to Dragon Alley, but with his father in jail his home was filled with so much dread and gloom that he felt he would have suffocated had he not leave the confines. Now, of course, on the floor and clutching his stomach in pain he could not help but think how right his mother had been - he really should not have come here.
Clutching the wand in his pocket, he wordlessly erected a shield around himself before scrambling to his feet and running away. The man chased after him and he could hear laughter - laughter - behind him. He apparated at the first opportunity to somewhere... anywhere...
The familiar pull was comforting as the commotion around him melted away. When he landed on solid ground again he looked around him and saw that he was in the cemetery. The irony did not escape him, he chuckled dryly once before setting off the same gravestone he had always head to when he visit the graveyard.
Snape’s grave was a simple marble slab with his name edged on. It was so unobtrusive that it took Draco a good half hour to find during his first visit, though he had since memorized the location. He sat down on the grass in front of it and began to talk as he always did. Speaking to a man who had died in part for him was therapeutic, even if he could not really hear him, especially since no one could really hear him. “I don’t really know why I am here today, but I apparated and this is where I ended up,” he said honestly before sighing.
He had dissected everything Snape had ever said to him and realized just how much he was on his side the whole time - that had he listened to all his warnings and teachings perhaps he could have not repeated the mistakes Snape had made himself and prevented everything distasteful that was happening in his life now. “You were right, Snape, of course you were always right.”
A soft breeze blew across the cemetery then and even though he knew it was not an affirmation, he took it as one.
“I am sorry for so many things. But who would listen and forgive me now?” he asked to the world and no one answered.
-
On a particularly lazy night, in which Harry did not need to work late and Ginny got off practice early, the two lovers flew to the country side to watch stars. Sometime in the night they began to play a two persons variation of ‘truth or dare.’
It was Ginny’s turn to ask. She pondered for a moment and grin when she thought of a good question. “Okay, who did you have a crush in when you were nine?”
“Jenna White, she had the longest pigtails and I have always wanted to pull them,” Harry replied easily, “But of course I now think your hair is way more pullable.” He reached out and playfully pulled a handful of her red curly hair.
“Hey!”
“Okay, I will stop,” Harry laughed as he moved away from her swipe. “My turn. What is the strangest thing you have seen in Hogwarts?”
Draco Malfoy breaking into Hogwarts to speak to Moaning Myrtle, she wanted to say, but didn’t because she promised him to not tell anyway. So instead she said, “Moaning Myrtle defending Draco Malfoy.”
“Oh, you caught him talking to her in the washroom too?”
Curious about the beginning Malfoy’s relationship with the ghost, Ginny carefully probed on, “Yeah, they seemed to get along surprisingly well, don’t they?”
“That poor git, I saw him in sixth year crying in the boy’s washroom once with her trying to comfort him. I would say she was probably Malfoy’s only friend by seventh year.”
“Who would have thought,” Ginny pondered out loud. Harry nodded and they fell into a stretch of silence. Ginny remembered how much she hated him once. Yet, having seen him fallen so far with his father in Azkaban, their family home publically seized last month, and the few times she had seen him since, had made her pity him. “I see him sometime at the cemetery visiting Snape’s grave when I visit Fred. I don’t think he believes the world would ever give him a chance but I think he deserves one,” she said and realized she believed it.
-
“Mother, how was father?” he asked when his mother returned to their apartment.
“He is not well,” she managed to say before her throat clogged and her eyes watered. Draco rushed to her. He wrapped his arms around her frail body and led her to the arm chair. She began to cry. “He is so thin, and he is...Oh Draco, he is losing himself.”
Draco enclosed her in a tight embrace, “It’s alright,” he tried to sooth her, but his voice was wavering. He called for his house elf for a sleeping potion. His mother needed rest he knew, and she would get none of that today without help.
His mother had barely fallen asleep when the door bell rang. Draco left his mother to the care of her house elf and answered the door. To his horror, it was Potter.
“What are you doing here?” he whispered, taking care not to wake his mother. “You are not welcome here.”
“Relax, Malfoy,” Potter said, standing his ground, “I am here to make you a deal.”
-
2000
The clock struck twelve and whole Weasley family lifted their Champaign glasses and cheered for the beginning of a new millennium. Harry took a spoon near him and hit his glass to quiet the room. “I would like to ask a special question, everyone.”
He turned to her, kneeled on one knee, and took out a velvet box. Ginny could feel her heart beat a million beats as the room filled with suspenseful silence. “Ginerva Molly Weasley, you are the kindest most beautiful woman I have ever met. Would you make me the happiest of man and marry me?”
With her family looking on with anticipation, Ginny grinned and said yes.
-
Draco Malfoy stared at his own reflection in the washroom mirror in his somewhere in a 400sq apartment in Mong Kok, the seediest area of Hong Kong. He watched as the effect of the polyjuice potion waned and the face of the Chinese man he had been impersonating melted away. He could not help but think how very foreign his own face looked when the transformation settled. For a year he was Lee Wing Kai, the cruel deputy dragon master of a Hong Kong Triad that was smuggling dark objects into Britain, and to dispel suspicion he had done so many despicable, horrible things...
And the truth was, sometime in the last twelve months, it stopped being just an act. The guilt that accompanied him initially had faded, that coupled with his growing nonchalance toward mindless violence made him realize one thing: he was becoming more like the real Lee Wing Kai every day. He was scared of losing himself, so Potter’s perfect little plan be damned, he ended everything.
He was Draco Malfoy again, but nothing could make him feel less disgusted with the world, himself included.
-
It was one of those games that Ginny Weasley was not particularly proud of. The Harpies were playing an away game against their long time rival Puddlemere that turned ugly fast when the referees did not make the call on the Puddlemere beater that kicked their seeker. By the time the game ended with a tie, five players had been knocked off their brooms and three of them had to be levitated off the pitch.
Eager to escape the chaos and any questioning from reporters, she apparated the first chance she had across town and walked into the smallest, emptiest pub she could find. There were only five patrons at the Lee’s Family Pub when she walked in. four were chatting quietly at the corner and one was drinking alone at the bar. She made her way to the bar, sat down a few seats down from the lone drinker, and quickly ordered two of the house special.
She downed the drink in two swigs before ordering another. While waiting for her third drink, she took a better look at the man sitting down the bar and realized he was none other than Draco Malfoy. She debated for a moment whether or not to approach him, before realizing she had nothing to lose so she walked over and tapped on his shoulder.
“Thought I should say hello to my old school mate,” she said as she sat down next to him.
“Weasley,” he greeted quietly, not missing a beat. If he was surprised he hid it well. “That was a horrible game even by the Harpies’ standard.”
Ginny ran her hand through her hair, and gave a guilty chuckle.
“And I suppose,” Malfoy continued after taking another sip of his Scotch, “congratulation is in order?”
“You heard?”
He shrugged. “It was hard not to, your engagement pictures were all over the news for weeks,” he explained before adding, “and I wasn’t even in Britain.”
Ginny laughed self-consciously. The media did in fact over play her engagement a fair bit, but what could she do when she was marrying The-Boy-Who-Lived? “Were you on vacation?”
“I wish.”
“Working then? What are you doing these days anyway?”
Malfoy raised his eye-brow. “Thought you of all people would know since your Fiancé told me it was your idea.”
“What?”
He thought for a moment, trying to decide how much to tell. In the end, he settled for a vague answer, “I do work for your fiancé. Anyway, when is the wedding?”
Ginny made a mental note to ask Harry about this later. “There’s no date yet. I want to wait a little to focus on my career.”
“Never thought you were the career type,” he noted, “but I approve.”
She laughed. The absurdity of the fact she was having a civil - and voluntary - conversation suddenly hit her. For six years she shared a school with this man but they never talked to each other in good terms, but here they were talking naturally like they were friends. “Careful, you are approving a Weasley. The world may soon freeze over.”
“I have to approve, you are going to be one of the few people who can put Potter in his place,” he said with a small smile before adding with a smirk, “Besides, who said I didn’t approve of you before.”
“Oh please, you only knew my name because of Harry, admit it.”
“Your hair made it fairly easy to figure out your last name,” he retorted dryly.
She hit him lightly on his arm. “Git.” And just like that a bond was formed.
-
When Draco received an owl a week after, he was not expecting it to be from Ginny Weasley. It read:
I found out the gist of what you are doing from Harry. I just want to let you know it was not my idea, I only told him I think you deserved a chance. Keep safe and keep me posted when you are back to Britain again. Ginny
-
In December, Ginny Weasley received a small package from Draco Malfoy with an assortment of oriental style quidditch accessories and a note that read:
About to finish a mission in Shanghai. Will be back to Britain coming January to repossess the Manor. Don’t slack off on quidditch practice just because it’s winter. Merry Christmas. Draco
2001
An owl brought him a 2001 Harpies season ticket from Ginny Weasley on New Years Day with the message: I am not a slacker, prat. Happy New Year. Ginny
-
It was a sunny day when he brought his mother back to the Malfoy Manor as a surprise for her coming birthday. She broke down in what he hoped to be tears of joy when she stepped into their home, their real home, for the first time in two years. “We are back for good?”
“For good, mother.”
He had not seen her smile once in the past three years, but there she was, smiling and laughing as she she explored the manor like a child at a fair. It was rewarding to see her happy and it made him think that perhaps all the danger, the sleepless nights, the horrible missions... everything he did in the past year and a half and everything he will have to do as part of his deal with Potter was worth it.
-
When an eagle owl brought a package of specialty food from Albania to her, she knew exactly who it was from without reading the unsigned note attached: In Albania. All is well.
-
Draco Malfoy woke up to what sounded like finger drumming on glass. He tried to ignore it but when the tapping did not stop Draco got out of his bed and stumbled to the living room. A few near misses and many swear words later he managed to find the source of the insistent noise: an eagle owl, his mother’s owl to be exact. He opened the window to let the miserable eagle owl in. The bird did not fare well in Singapore’s humidity, and the fact gave Draco some satisfaction.
“Serves you right for waking me up,” Draco snarled as he untied the letter from the owl’s out-stretched right leg.
Draco sobered when he read the letter. Written by his mother in uncharacteristically ill cursive, it told him that his father had died in Azkaban the night prior.
The news was not a surprise, more a confirmation. He wasn’t sure how he felt and perhaps it was a mix of many things. His father had transformed in his life time from a man he looked up to, to a man he questioned, to a man he pitied. He loved him, he never stopped loving him, but though he would never admit this to his mother, his father was dead to him ever since he entered Azkaban. And yet, surprisingly, or perhaps inevitably, the finality of the news still brought forth a fresh wave of grief he was unprepared for. For the first time in years, he cried.
-
There was an owl for him the next day from Ginny: I am sorry about your father. Let me know the time and place of the funeral, I would like to be there.
-
2002
Ginny Weasley woke up and found herself attached to an assortment of magical machines. For a moment she was confused then she remembered what happened: being knocked off her bloom by a spell while diving for a goal in the finals of the British and Irish Quidditch League Cup. “Did we win?”
“You are awake!” cried Harry, she turned and found him sitting next to her looking very tired. She wondered how long she had been in the hospital. “The Harpies won thanks to you. Your teammates just left, actually.” He bent forward to give her a hug before standing up. “I am going to call the healers.”
It was only when he left that she began to feel it. The potion dulled pain at her left side. She struggled to push herself up and saw to her horror an empty space where her left leg should be. She screamed.
-
There was an owl for her a few days after she left the hospital from Draco: I tracked the man who did that to you in Spain, he will not get away with what he had done.
-
2003
She felt like she could not breathe in heavy tension in the room. Her family were talking and laughing but everything felt so very forced and restrained. It was the beginning of another quidditch season but no one mentioned a word about it. It made her angry. She did not need them to protect her this way. She lost a leg, she could not play anymore, but she was still there.
Harry was the worst amongst them. He seemed to tip toed around her these days. The healers had mentioned she should refrain from physical activities, and Harry had taken their words to heart. She was not even allowed to wash a dish, and whenever she suggested that they should go out for a date he would smile and say he liked to stay home instead. It was like he thought she would crumple into dust if she was hit by the wind.
He was being thoughtful, perhaps, but his love was smothering her and it left her with no choice but one.
-
The six months mission ended when he finally confronted his mark in Malaysia. There was a horrible duel and a huge mess but it was all over. Finishing his missions cleanly was clearly rather weak point for him, but as he was the only field agent with a perfect success rate, Potter took the clean up as part of the cost and never took any action beyond verbal reprimands against his unorthodox methods.
He was about to leave St. Mungo’s after getting the more serious wounds he sustained during the mission healed when he saw her hobbling in for her checkup. He had corresponded with her through owls and had seen her whenever he was back in the country, but he was still not quite used to seeing her with her prosthetic left leg.
“It’s not polite to stare, Malfoy,” Weasley said when she had gotten closer.
“Does it hurt?”
She chuckled darkly. “The leg? Or the fact everyone still seems to move so damn carefully around me?”
He felt his heart twist at her bitterness. It was like watching himself five years ago and it was painful to see. He wanted to help her, he needed to help her. “I know a few things about dealing with dark curses after effects. As for the latter, I suggest you stop acting like a child.”
“You understand nothing.”
Draco took a step toward her, “You know, at fifteen I thought life had taught me undeniably that surrender, in its place, was as honourable as resistance, especially if one had no choice. I don’t think I believe that, anymore... I am not so naive as to think I can change the world by will, but now I think there’s a place for resistance.” It was the first time in their unlikely friendship that he mentioned his past. It hurt to bring everything up but he had to make a point.
Ginny glared and began to hobble away but he stopped her by grabbing her wrist.
“I almost did not accept Potter’s deal, you know. It was easier to run away and blame the world for my misfortune, but when I looked at my mother I realized what I had to do,” Draco explained as he ran his fingers through his hair. “You need to make a road for yourself, if not for yourself, at least for your family that cares about you.”
“You don’t understand anything!”
“I understand everything, Ginny,” he tried one last time, “I am leaving tomorrow and won’t be back again for a long time. But when you are ready to be an adult again, owl me, I will be there.” With that, he let her wrist go.
-
2004
She owled him six months later and was surprised to see a quick response. They met up two days later at the same rundown pub they met so long ago. He handed her one of glass when the bartender brought him two of his ‘usual.’ Ginny took a sip and nearly spitted out what she had. “Blood hell, that was strong.”
Draco laughed, “It does the job and quickly.”
“No shit,” she said as she took another sip, this time she held it in much better.
They drank in silence for a time, each deep in thought. Then, “I didn’t think you would actually owl me.”
“I wasn’t going to at first,” she admitted, “I was angry at what you said, but then I realized how right you were. May be it’s too late.”
Draco shook his head. “I heard there was an opening at the Daily Prophet for a commentator,” he suggested gently and placed a business card in her hand. “If you want the job, just call him. It will give you a fresh start.”
Later at night, Ginny walked home for the apparition point with Draco (a gentleman always walk a lady home, he insisted), and thought about many things. She thought about her past, her family, her future, and finally her thoughts settled on the man walking next to her. “I think I want to see you more often,” she finally said and turned to him.
At first he did not react then slowly his lips tilted up into a grin. “Me too.”
Original Prompt that we sent you
Briefly describe what you'd like to receive in your fic
The tone/mood of the fic: Angst. Realism.
An element/line of dialogue/object you would specifically like in your fic: The following quote (as a prompt): "At fifteen life had taught me undeniably that surrender, in its place, was as honorable as resistance, especially if one had no choice." (Maya Angelou)
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: Any.
Canon or AU? Any.
Deal Breakers (anything you don't want?): Too much fluff or OOC-ness.