Was I Ever Loved By You?

RUMORS

It´s your world
And I was just someone in it
I never wanted to be your problem
And it´s your life
And I just wanted to see you live it
Be the one to help you solve `em

I wanted--I wanted it to be
I wanted--I wanted it to be

Never claimed to be no savior
I never claimed to be no saint
I´m just another tool who tried to love you
Saw the ones before me
Then I saw the one who took my place
Took a lot of time just to get on by you.

Wanted It To Be

by Sister Hazel

* * * * *

I sit across from Colin in the busy restaurant pushing my food around on my plate. My eyes wander to couples sitting in booths oblivious to the people around them.

"So how are you really?" he asks between mouthfuls of sweet and sour pork.

"Fine," I say, giving him a small smile.

"Because if you weren´t fine...you could tell me," he says, chewing.

I look at him a moment before answering. How do you tell your best friend that it hurts to breathe? That sometimes you feel like you´re going crazy? That you feel like you´re lost and will never be found?

"I´m fine," I repeat.

He nods and that is that. We talk about other things...work, his girlfriend, work, his head wizard, work, his father, work, his landlord, work...

What I like most about Colin is that he takes the pressure off when it comes to making conversation. He could go on and on for hours just talking about everything and nothing in particular at the same time. He´s satisfied with a nod or non-committal noise. He doesn´t demand your opinion, feedback or advice, just your attention. All he wants you to do is pretend to listen.

"Ginny?"

I look up at him. "What?"

"I said, Sheila told me you have a meeting with the new boss at three."

"She did, did she?"

"Yes, any idea who it is?"

"None whatsoever. I´ve never heard of Silver Fox Publishing."

Colin shrugs, "Neither have I. Well..." he says, standing and grabbing his camera equipment, "I´m off."

He pretends to pat his pocket, feeling for his wallet and then feigns surprise. I vaguely wonder if he practices that look in the mirror. "I must have forgotten..."

"I´ve got it," I say, picking up the check.

"Thanks, Gin...I mean, Virginia. You´re the best!"

I nod and he walks out with another free meal.

It was Colin´s idea that I start calling myself Virginia instead of Ginny. He said it would help me regain my self worth. After he and his head wizard (I think Muggles call them psychiatrists) had discussed my situation for a session or two they had decided that "Ginny" simply had too much of a past connected with it. Virginia, however, sounded much more regal and grown up.

Virginia sounds like someone else.

* * * * *

At 2:58 I am frantically trying to clean my office. There are articles everywhere, notes scribbled on scraps of parchment, two or three half full coffee cups and I´ve only just begun to get it straightened up.

"Bullocks!" I say, as I knock a container of black ink off my desk and onto the white carpet. There´s no time to clean it up. I glance up at the clock, 2:59. Then I point my wand at the desk and move it over the ink stain.

There is a knock at my door and I look up to see Marvin Milton from Accounting gracing my doorway. "Come in," I say, smiling and hastily shoving the ink bottle in a drawer. I pause a moment and open the drawer again to make sure I put the lid on it. I had.

I look up and I´m sure my mouth drops as Marvin leads a man into my office. "Gin...Virginia, this is Mr. Malfoy, president of Silver Fox Publishing."

He looks the way I remember him. Same hair, same eyes, same smirk as he steps forward. "Miss Weasley," he says, casually, offering his hand. I make no move to shake it though. I couldn`t if I tried.

Draco Malfoy cannot be standing here in my office on a Tuesday afternoon. He´s supposed to be dead. Murdered at the hand of the Dark Lord himself over ten years ago.

"Virginia," Marvin says, frowning.

I swallow and shake his hand nervously. "I´m sorry," I say, "It´s just..."

He nods in an annoyed fashion. "You thought I was dead."

"Yes," I say, feeling foolish, "er...please, have a seat."

They sit in the two chairs, now slightly off centre, in front of my desk. I´m still staring at Malfoy as I go to sit in my chair, only to find that it´s not there. I land hard, sprawled on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. Instantly Marvin is on his feet leaning over my desk.

"My goodness, are you all right, Virginia?" Marvin asks, frowning and shooting a quick glance over at Malfoy.

"Quite," I say, getting up quickly, feeling my cheeks burning. Malfoy is reclining in a chair looking like he wants to laugh. I catch his eye and see a mischievous twinkle there.

"Lying down on the job, eh, Weasley?" he says, with a smirk. And suddenly I feel like I´ve been transported back through time and we are simply exchanging words in the hall at Hogwarts.

"Shut it, Malfoy," I snap.

Marvin looks at me with horror. And I realize what I´ve just said to my new boss. Or the man that was my boss until about two seconds ago when I told him to "Shut it."

Malfoy starts to laugh. It´s soft at first, more like a chuckle and then it grows louder and louder until he is practically doubled over. Marvin is laughing nervously with him even though it is obvious that he doesn´t know why. I simply stand there waiting for the axe to fall and making a mental list of supplies to take with me. I always liked that stapler.

After all, it is fitting that things would go this way, isn´t it? Just when things couldn´t possibly get worse, just when I thought breaking up with Harry had to be the lowest point, here I was getting fired by my new boss. A Malfoy at that.

He stands up, tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. "Well, we won´t keep you, Ms. Weasley. I know you have important work to do."

"Yes...I´ll get my things immediately," I say, making a grab for the stapler.

"Are you going somewhere?" He asks, one eyebrow cocked slightly.

I set the stapler down quickly. "Of course not, I was just looking at it."

"What?" He asks, an amused look on his face.

Marvin steps in front of him. "Sir, perhaps we should take a look at the production department."

Malfoy ignores him, looking at me directly over his head (Marvin is a short, stout fellow of only 5`6). "Ms. Weasley, I´d like for us to meet sometime this week to go over the ins and outs of the magazine."

I blink. What? I´m not fired? "O-of course."

"Perhaps over lunch?" he asks. "What day would be best for you?"

"Any," I say, quickly. "Just owl me."

"I will," he says nodding, suddenly very business-like. "Now, Mr. Milton, you mentioned the production department?"

* * * * *

After work I find myself sharing a drink with Ron at the pub. He looks terrible, like he hasn´t slept in days, and he seems tense.

We sit in silence a moment, neither one of us ever having been gifted at small talk. I watch him as the takes a sip of that disgusting lager he likes and then I ask the question that has been on my mind since I saw him.

"What´s wrong?"

"Nothing," he says, looking at a bunch of girls who have just entered.

"Really, what is it?"

"Nothing," he says, again not meeting my eye.

I sigh, and take a sip of my drink.

"What´s wrong with you?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say.

"See, we´re both fine."

"Right," I say, with a fake cheeriness. "Except, we aren´t really, are we?"

"What?´

"We aren´t really fine. We just say that because we don´t want to have to try to explain what´s wrong. If we say it that makes it real and we can´t wish or drink it away that way."

"Bloody hell, Ginny. You´ve been listening to that git Colin again haven´t you?"

"No. I´m just tired of not saying what´s on our minds. Ron, we talk all the time, but we never really talk."

"Keep it down will you? They´ll think you´re my girlfriend instead of my sister." He says the last part loudly so that the girls at the end of the bar will have no doubt. Though I don´t know how much being seen at a pub with your sister is going to help his love life.

"Tell me what´s wrong or I´ll pretend we`re here together."

"You wouldn´t!"

"I would," I say dangerously.

"Ginny!" he says, looking appalled, "That´s just disgusting."

"What´s wrong, then?"

"Oh, all right. Hermione and I had a fight. There, are you happy?"

"No. What about?"

"Stupid things, really," Ron says, finishing off his glass and indicating he needs another.

"Harry?" I ask, knowing the answer.

"Yeah."

"She´s upset you aren´t talking to him," I guess.

"She´ll get over it."

"You should talk to him," I say, looking away.

"No."

"And why not? He´s your best friend."

"He was my best friend."

"Until I messed it up."

"You didn´t mess things up, Gin. He did."

There is an awkward silence after this statement.

"Guess who is my new boss?" I say finally, having given up on talking about deeper issues.

"Who?" Ron asks, winking at a girl at the end of the bar.

"Draco Malfoy."

He spits his lager out over the counter, gaining disgusted looks from the girls. "W-what? But he´s dead!"

"Obviously not."

"But how?"

"I don´t know. But he was sitting across from me in my office at three o´clock this afternoon."

"Be careful around him, Ginny."

I roll my eyes, "Ron, I´m not in school anymore."

"Just be careful," he says.

* * * * *

"What I don´t understand is this lapse in readership," Malfoy says, pointing at the figures between us. "It´s been down for three months straight."

I sigh. I know perfectly well what that is. "That would be the love triangle that we didn´t cover."

He looks up at me. "I see," he says flatly.

He is so damn hard to read. The boy I remember used to be calm and malicious and his favorite expression was a cross between a sneer and a smirk. It wasn´t pleasant, but at least you knew where you stood with him. You were enemies.

But this man was different. He had the same eyes, same hair, same smirk, but most of the time his face was a mask of impassiveness. I had been nervous, meeting him for lunch. Part of me had thought this was just part of some cruel game to get my hopes up and then crush them. It seemed something a Malfoy would do. Not fire me, only to do it the next day over lunch. But he had been perfectly professional all the way through lunch.

"In the future," he says slowly, "we won´t have the liberty of granting our Editors such privacy."

I feel my cheeks warm as I nod. "It was a vicious rumor, anyway," I say defensively. "Not a bit of it was true."

"Even so," Malfoy says, "it was news. And our readership is down because we skirted the issue. You should have been putting your side of the story out there."

"My private life isn´t something that I´m willingly going to give people access to," I protest.

"When you´re in the spotlight, that´s not something you get to choose," he says leaning back into his chair. "You gave up your privacy the minute you started seeing Potter."

"I don´t see you out there telling your story," I point out as I lean forward. "There have been plenty of rumors about you, too." I´m getting angry despite my best intentions not to.

"That`s because there`s nothing to tell," he says coldly. I can tell by the way his fingers curl momentarily that I´ve hit a nerve.

"Nothing always means something."

"Weasley, you don´t know what you´re talking about," he says, leaning forward. "So why don´t you..."

"Ginny?"

I look up startled. I know the voice before I see the familiar face.

It´s Harry. And falling all over him is Monique Monet, a pretty dark-haired witch that he´s worked with for years. I look up at him open-mouthed, not sure what to say. Part of me wants to run from him screaming and the other has this uncontrollable urge to wrap my arms around him and never let go. Luckily, I don´t have to say anything at all because he`s distracted by the man sitting across from me.

"Hello, Potter," drawls Malfoy, instantly losing his business edge. "Fancy seeing you here."

* * * * *