Forget Because We Must

Forget Because We Must

"But each day brings its petty dust our soon-choked souls to fill, and we forget because we must, and not because we will."

--Matthew Arnold

Chapter 2

Ginny arrived in the small deserted flat, with tears in her eyes. Damn him! Damn Harry! She didn't want to remember. She simply couldn't. The pain of the memories would consume her, eat her alive. She suppressed the urge to vomit everywhere and she sat on the small sagging couch in front of the empty, bare fireplace. The house was dark, as Ginny had pulled down all the shades before she left, but she didn't care, and she made no attempt to open them. She rather liked it dark.

She sat on the couch, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, for hours, well into the night. She might have fallen asleep at some point but it was only when she started feeling the cold creeping into her bones that she lethargically raised her wand and muttered "Incendio." Flames burst to life in the grate, and the warmth seeped over her like a blanket. The flickering of the fire cast eerie shadows about the small room, making Ginny recoil and curl into a ball, resting her head on the armrest of the couch.

For a while, she lay like that, merely staring into the fire and listening to it crackle and hiss. Suddenly, her mind was jolted back to the man at the bookshop that morning. She replayed the scene over and over in her head, trying to remember the steely gray eyes and the white-blonde head of the stranger. Could it really be Draco Malfoy? She wondered, playing with a strand of her hair, winding it round and round her finger. If it was him, why did the whole Wizarding community think he was dead? And what on earth was he doing in Flourish and Blott's? Oh well, it doesn't matter, she thought wearily. Who cares whether or not Draco is alive or dead?

"I certainly don't," she said aloud to the quiet room. But she wondered again why she kept thinking about it, if she didn't care. She shrugged dolefully and extinguished the fire. She needed sleep. She hurried into her bedroom and flicked on the light. Her bed was bare. She had forgotten that she had packed her bedclothes yesterday, and that she was planning on staying at The Burrow until she left. Well, there was no way she was going back there now. Not with Harry there, trying to force her past down her throat. She hated him, despised him, and yet loved him with all of her heart at the same time. Ginny knew he wasn't doing it on purpose, and that he didn't understand what was going on in her head right now, but she still couldn't help being angry with him. She stamped her foot angrily, and pulled a pillow and her heavy winter cloak out of a nearby trunk. She didn't feel like making the bed up again so she turned off the light in the bedroom and went to sleep on the couch, covering herself with her cloak.

* * *

She awoke early the next morning, beams of sunlight falling across her face, shoving their way trough the broken slats in the window blinds. She groaned and rolled unceremoniously off the couch. She had had a deep, dreamless sleep. For once, Ginny was grateful. Her stomach rumbled and she remembered that all she had had to eat the previous day was breakfast.

She opened the pantry in the small kitchen to find it almost completely empty, save an old loaf of bread. She took a knife and cut two pieces off of it. It was rather stale, but it would have to do...it was all she had. She toasted it and spread butter and jam on it. It tasted like cardboard. Then she took a shower.

She still had a few more things that she needed to buy in Diagon Alley before she left for France the next day. She pulled her hair up into a bun after toweling it dry the best she could. She didn't feel like fussing with it, and she wasn't trying to impress anyone, anyway. She grabbed the light cloak that she had worn the previous day, and her bag of money. She also grabbed a small piece of parchment on which she had scribbled the last few things that she needed before she left.

She stepped out onto her back patio, which was the perfect place for Apparating in the Muggle world, because it was completely screened by a high fence and large rosebushes that her mother had planted for her when she had moved in here two years ago. The rosebushes still glimmered with dew that had accumulated during the night. The hot sun was fast evaporating it, but it was dripping off of the petals, giving Ginny the fleeting impression that the bushes where weeping. She turned her face to the bright blue, clear sky. It was another beautiful summer morning. The day couldn't have contrasted her inner feelings more. Still, the beautiful morning did lighten her spirits, if only a little.

She stood there for a moment just drinking it all in. The smell of the roses, mixed on the wind with the smell of a freshly cut lawn. The warm sun beating tenderly on her milky freckled skin, contrasted against the crisp early-morning air. She sighed, taking one more look around and then Apparated with a crack to the middle of Diagon Alley.

She arrived to find a sleepy, just-waking Diagon Alley. Shop owners all around could be seen flipping the signs on their doors to "open" and opening the shutters. There was a small café around the corner and Ginny thought she would grab a cup of tea and a biscuit, since her breakfast of stale toast hadn't been in the least bit satisfactory. She sat down at a table in the back of the café facing the door. The café was quiet and empty except for her. She was the first customer of the day, she guessed. Almost immediately, a squat witch with curly brown hair bustled over to Ginny's table.

"What'll it be for yeh, dear?" she said in a rather sandpapery voice.

"Just a cup of tea and a biscuit, please," Ginny said. The witch nodded politely, scribbled Ginny's order on a small pad of parchment, and walked away. Ginny sat blankly at the table, staring out of the window, watching the first shoppers of the day shuffle around and make their first purchases. Her mind was surprisingly blank, considering the kind of emotional trauma she had been going ough. Ginny savored the moment of internal peace, knowing that it wouldn't last for long.

Before long, the witch had returned with Ginny's order. She sipped her tea slowly, and nibbled at her biscuit. Slowly, the tiny café began to fill itself around her. The place was soon buzzing with chatter and small bursts of laughter. Everyone was so happy. Ginny looked darkly at them, wishing she knew what they knew, the secret of being happy. She knew it once, years ago, before the war. She even maintained her childhood innocence a few years into the war. But as soon as she left Hogwarts, everything changed. The secret to happiness seemed to slip through her fingers. She didn't realize it at the time of course - she was fighting in the war too. Her missions never caused her to go into battles, or duels, however. She ran most of the behind the scenes stuff for The Order. Stealth was more of her thing however, and occasionally she was permitted to do a bit of spying, and following. But, towards the end of the war, every member of The Order had been marked, so it became extremely risky for anyone but the best Aurors to do anything.

Ginny sighed and stared into the dregs of her tea. She had better get a move on. She was expected back at The Burrow for dinner, and she still had a bit of shopping to do. Swallowing the remains of her tea in one large gulp, and stuffing the last bite of her biscuit in her mouth, she looked outside, staring into the now milling crowd. She didn't have any idea what had caused her to look up and was about to plop a few Sickles onto the table when she finally saw what had caught her mind's attention: the back of a white-blonde head retreating into the crowd. It was the stranger from the bookshop. Ginny didn't know what compelled her to follow him, but she did.

She threw her money onto the table and almost ran out of the tiny café, startling an elderly witch who was just about to enter as she threw open the door. She shoved her way through the crowd, fighting to keep the white-blonde stranger in her sights. It seemed like he was heading for The Leaky Cauldron. Ginny was starting to feel aggravated. Why was she following him? She had shopping to do. She stopped in her tracks, causing several people to slam into her back, and curse at her.

She was about to turn around and head the other way to do her shopping when the white-blonde head threatened to be swallowed in the crowd. Ginny dashed forward once again, following the stranger at a fevered pace. She wished that he would just get wherever he was going so she could stop running. She was starting to get a stitch in her side. Finally, he stopped and turned towards the back entrance of The Leaky Cauldron. What should she do now? She thought hurriedly. Ginny decided that she would go in for a butterbeer and just see whom exactly it was. She hoped he wouldn't go straight through into Muggle London. She would surely lose him then.

She stepped into the murky pub and looked around. At first, her stomach sank, and she was a bit disappointed - the strange man didn't seem to be in here. She was just turning to go back into Diagon Alley when she saw him sitting at the counter on a barstool. His chin was resting on his hand, with his fingers curled up around his lips. The other hand was clutching a large pewter tankard that was emitting small green sparks. As she inched closer to get a better look, she realized that, without a doubt, the stranger was in fact Draco Malfoy.

Her head was buzzing with confusion and her instincts were screaming to just run, and finish her shopping and forget this. But for once, she could not forget. She was overcome with something that she had not felt since her days at Hogwarts: curiosity. She settled herself at the end of the bar counter, some five or six seats away from Draco. She ordered a butterbeer and sipped it casually, sneaking furtive glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking. This wasn't a problem because he didn't seem to stare anywhere but straight ahead, or into the tankard. He downed his drink in three gulps and ordered another.

Ginny averted her eyes as he swept his gaze around the pub. Ginny took a swig of her butterbeer and made to pay, when she felt his eyes boring into her. Drawing her hand out of her pocket, clutching her money, she slowly turned her head. His mouth was set in a straight line, his gray eyes staring unblinkingly into her brown ones. The bar tender sat another tankard down in front of him, and that seemed to snap him out of it, as he averted his gaze and chugged his drink.

Ginny looked away, perplexed. She took a last sip of her drink, no longer tasting it at all and she plopped some silver onto the counter. She got up and turned to leave, but was inhibited by a strong hand on her shoulder. She looked up and met the fierce gaze of Draco. He seemed quite intoxicated. Obviously whatever he was drinking was quite strong, and she could smell it on his breath, as he was so close.

"Weasley," he said, smirking a bit like his old self.

"Malfoy," she said curtly, trying to step out of his grasp, but he held fast.

"Long time, no see, eh?" he said, twisting his smirk into an odd smile.

"Not nearly long enough. Now let go of me, I have shopping to do," she said, now trying to pry his fingers off of her shoulder. He had a grip like a vise.

"Now, now," he said, smirking once more. He looked and sounded remarkably like his father. "No need to be rude. I know you want to talk to me...catch up on old times, or else you wouldn't have followed me in here." Ginny flushed. He knew she had followed him.

"Why the hell would I follow you, Malfoy? I have better things to do, I wanted a butterbeer was all -," he raised a hand to silence her, shaking his head. Oh, he hasn't changed one bit! She seethed. He is the same arrogant git that he was six years ago. However, what he said next surprised Ginny so much, she dropped her bag of money, which she had been clutching.

"Weasley, shut up and have dinner with me this evening," he said, loosening his grip on her shoulder to bend down and pick up her bag. "Still as poor as ever, I see. That's your life savings, is it?" he smirked.

"You ask me to dinner and then you insult me. How charming," she said, snatching the bag from his hand and finally pulling out of his grip. She would have a bruise on her shoulder, she was sure of it.

"Look, I just want to talk to someone. It's been so long since I've seen a familiar face. You're the first fellow Hogwarts student that I've seen in nearly four years," he said, his tone changing dramatically. He now looked rather sullen and depressed.

"What a pity. Well, I can't go anyway," Ginny said tartly, edging towards the exit. "I'm leaving tomorrow for France and I'm expected to have dinner with my family tonight," she said, in a rather hollow tone.

He considered her for a moment and then said, "What's left of your family you mean."

"How dare you -!" She said, backing away, anger coursing steadily through her veins. How dare he say that? How dare he? How dare he say that as if he knew? She turned about-face and stormed towards the exit, but he was too quick. He reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"You don't want to go anyway. I saw it in your face when you said it. So don't go. Come have dinner with me. Have a chat. You look lonely, and god knows I could use the company as well," he said icily. Ginny was breathing hard, still infuriated.

"I wouldn't have dinner with you Malfoy, if it was to be the last meal I ever ate!" she spat. He grinned, infuriating her even more.

"Still have that fire Weasley," he said, replacing his grin with that trademark smirk of his. "Meet me here at seven o'clock, then. Don't bother rejecting," he said, as he saw her open her mouth to protest, "I know you'll be here." And with a wink and a nod, he released her wrist and strolled out into Muggle London, leaving Ginny standing there, quite confused.

Her anger was starting to ebb away, but she was still breathing hard, as though she had just ran a race. He was right, she thought bitterly. She didn't want to have dinner with her family. Or what's left of your family. His words reverberated thorough her head as if someone had just struck it like a huge gong. She felt dizzy and somewhat nauseated. She felt fresh waves of fury and nausea breaking over her as she stepped back into the sunny, mid-morning bustle of Diagon Alley. She was in too much of a tizzy to finish her shopping properly so she shopped for as long as she could stand, not getting even half of what was on her list, and then Apparated home.

* * *

She arrived at her flat in such an advanced state of inner-turmoil that she could hardly sit still. She paced around, packing the rest of her things haphazardly, not even realizing what she was doing. Just then, a large snowy owl swooped though Ginny's open window, nearly causing her to have a heart attack. She recognized it at once as Hedwig, Harry's owl.

She ripped off the parchment that she had tied to her leg and opened it. It was her mother's tiny, loopy writing, confirming plans for dinner that evening. Ginny sighed, knowing full well that she was meeting Draco. She scribbled a note on the back saying something along the lines that she wasn't feeling well, and was going to dine at home, and that she would see them all the next day at King's Cross. She tied it to Hedwig's leg, stroked her for a moment and then she soared away. Ginny stood at the window for a moment, watching her blend into the clouds and then soon disappear from sight completely.

Once Ginny was sure that everything she wished to take was packed away, and all of her luggage was piled by the door, she let her mind slip back to a more pressing matter: dinner that evening with Draco. She felt kind of bad about skiving dinner with her family and friends, but meeting Draco had brought such an abrupt change of routine in her monotonous everyday life that she would seriously be hard pressed to ignore the opportunity. She checked the clock above the mantelpiece. It was nearly six o'clock. Ginny desperately needed another shower. She was rather sweaty and kind of sore from packing and moving her heavy trunks around all day.

After she got out of the shower, she played with her hair a bit, but decided it still wasn't worth it. She didn't care about looking nice for him. Or did she? She sighed and resigned herself to try and look at least a little nicer than she normally did.

She pulled on the nicest pair of robes she owned, and unearthed a flirtatious-looking white silk blouse and a just as flirtatious-looking gray cotton skirt from one of her trunks. She slipped on some cute black strappy sandals, and stood back to view herself in the full-length mirror. She actually smiled.

It had been so long since she actually felt beautiful. Her gaze landed on her hair, which hung limp around her shoulders. She had abandoned her bun hours ago. She frowned a little and decided that if she were going to look nice, she would have to go full out. Checking the clock, she saw that she only had 20 minutes left. She quickly retreated to the bathroom mirror where she observed the limp mop on her head and tried to decide what she should do with it. Finally coming to a decision, she took out her wand, wrapped a strand of hair around it and muttered a hair-styling charm her mother had taught her. She unwound the perfect ringlet from her wand and repeated the same technique several more times at various spots over her head. She took a small clip and clipped the curled parts elegantly at the back of her head. She looked all right, she decided. She headed to the back patio and Apparated to Diagon Alley, just outside The Leaky Cauldron.