White Noise

Chapter 3: Malfoy

Ginny had been getting up to go to work for a total of one glorious week. Currently, she was in the loo brushing out her hair. She liked it. She liked the blondish highlights and the new, more updated version of her former haircut; the layers were nice, too, the way they framed her face.

It felt a hell of a lot better to be back to being productive than she had thought it would; everyone had already told her it would make her feel better, anyway. They had been right, and she wouldn't be afraid to admit that to Ron when she saw him in an hour. They had planned to meet for breakfast this morning and the only thing Ginny was even a bit afraid of was Ron seeing her hair. If he even noticed (and he was quite daft, at that), he would have a fit.

They met for breakfast at a small diner, two blocks from her flat, called the Silver Spoon Diner. He was smiling, although it was a tight, controlled smile. She hadn't seen a smile of any wattage on Ron's face as of late--six months late, actually.

His eyes looked electric. She smiled reassuringly at her older brother, wanting him to know that it was okay to smile.

"Good morning, Ron," she said, giving him a hug, although she had to reach up on her very tiptoes to do so. He hugged her back and she sighed against him. His frame was solid and safe. He was her brother.

"Morning, sweetie," he said gently.

Ginny pulled away and looked up into the face of her apparently still concerned brother. "Is everything alright, Ronald?" she asked sternly, bracing herself for his answer.

Ron shrugged. "It's not me I'm worried about. I'm fine. How are you?" he said pointedly. His eyebrows raised into his shaggy red bangs.

"How do you think I am, Ron? My husband is dead--" She felt bad when Ron flinched at the mention of his best friend, but she continued, "I'm being trained into a job I already know how to do! And, I'm paying rent all by myself. I should post a "Flat Mate Wanted" sign, shouldn't I?"

"Don't joke. It's not all that funny," he grumbled. Suddenly, Ron seemed to find the table linen very interesting.

Her smile was wry. "I didn't mean it as a joke. I was serious. It's hard paying rent with only one income."

Just one of the little things I've come to learn.

"We were all worried about you, Gin. We hadn't heard from you in a week--"

"A whole week?" she interrupted, slapping her cheek gently, teasingly.

Ron glowered, but didn't rise to the bait. "We were worried, Gin. They all thought it was good for you to go back to work and to...move on with your life--"

Ginny held up her hand, effectively interrupting her brother once again. "What do you mean they? Didn't you want me to, too?"

"Didn't I want you to what?"

"Get on with my life?"

Ron looked at his sister sheepishly. "That's not what I meant and you know it. We all want you to move forward with your life...it's just... hard, you know? Harry was my best friend--don't tell Hermione that--and I miss him terribly."

Ginny was impressed. He had never shared this much personal stuff with her, never wanting to appear too emotional. Of course, Ron's definition of emotional differed from the world's definition, and so... "I haven't forgotten Harry, if that's what you're getting at, Ron. I miss him, too. I mean, gods, he was my husband. It's not like you were married to him."

His cheeks reddened a little and she felt bad for him.

"I think Hermione knows Harry was your best friend," she said slowly, hoping to elicit a smile from him.

It worked. "I know she knows. Are you truly doing fine?" He peered at her with eyes that were bluer then she'd ever seen them.

"Please don't worry too much, Ron. I'm moving on. Really, tell Mum and Father that I am doing alright. I'm sorry that I didn't get in touch sooner, or at all, for that matter...I was busy, is all," she said.

She wasn't going to tell him that she was feeling utterly lethargic and was having trouble falling asleep at night. Sometimes, it felt even worse than it did in the days and weeks right after Harry's death. She didn't understand it, and she certainly didn't want her family worrying about her anymore then they already were. She felt guilty enough as it was.

Ron sipped at his peppermint tea. Ginny reached across the round table and took his large hand in hers and squeezed it. "Now, tell me, how is Hermione doing?"

***

He hadn't even noticed her new hair. Oh well, she thought, next time she saw him he'd notice it and then he'd probably be upset that he hadn't noticed it at this morning's breakfast date. Serves him right, she thought.

The wind tugged at her auburn-colored hair as she walked to entryway of her employer. It was good to be back. She didn't even mind her new office too much, although she hadn't been to her old one to see what Dakotah had done to it. There were too many memories in that office to go back right now.

There were more memories in the apartment they lived in, but Ginny had come to terms with those long ago. They were easier to look over now. She didn't want to have to learn to ignore any more then she already had.

"Morning, Ginny!" Marlon Douglass called out to her.

Ginny liked Marlon. He was an official within the Ministry, but he could oftentimes be found here. Ginny wasn't sure if it was more because his wife was a secretary or because his job required that he stay in communication with the employees at the Building of Dangerous Liaisons. Ginny suspected it was a little of both; either way, he was generally liked by all the employees.

Marlon spun on his heel. "Actually, Ginny, could I talk to you for a moment?"

She nodded and turned her body in his direction. "Sure, what can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to make sure you're adjusting well enough," he said thoughtfully.

Somehow, coming from him, the question made her melt, whereas that same question had pissed her off when it came from her brother.

Ginny nodded. "It's going well. I like being back. I like feeling useful again."

For a second, it looked as if Marlon was glaring at her, but she soon realized it was at something behind her. She turned around to an empty hall, with only the waving, winking and studying pictures of wizards and witches past. She still didn't know where Harry's was.

She didn't ask what, if anything, had been behind her.

He patted her shoulder and smiled. "Do good, Ginny," he wished.

She smiled and wished him well. Somewhere in their goodbyes she was also invited to dinner with him and his wife, Carolinia, to which she politely declined. "Maybe another time, though?" she suggested and he nodded in agreement, which she had known he would.

"It's cold in here," she muttered, rubbing her biceps. She reminded herself that she should really bring another layer tomorrow.

A tall man with long, white blonde hair was having a conversation with her boss, Les. Les was in charge of everything in the Liaisons building. The only thing he didn't have charge in was Ginny, really, and even she had to check in with him once in awhile.

Dakotah popped her head out of the ladies' loo and grinned. She was back to not stepping around Ginny as if she was a pile of broken glass someone had swept into the corner.

Les clapped the tall man on the back. Then he saw Ginny and smiled a mile wide. "Ginny, my girl! Come meet your new partner!"

Ginny walked toward the men with a growing sense of dread. She knew Les had been looking for a partner for her, she just didn't know that it would be so soon. She was rather getting used to being alone in that big office of hers with room to daydream and do work.

He turned and as she saw his profile... "Fuck," she sighed, connecting his profile with a foggy memory. One she would rather have forgotten, too.

"Malfoy..." his name came out more like a curse than anything.

He nodded at her, his ice grey eyes leveling with her as if she was the scum of the earth. "Weasel," he breathed with enough enunciation that she didn't have to be right next to him to know what he called her.

Les clapped his hands together. "Oh good! You two already know each other! Ginny, why didn't you suggest Draco as your partner long ago? He's more than qualified for saving your neck! Wonderful!" he exclaimed happily, throwing his hands into the air.

"I've only been back a week," she muttered irritably. To Les, though, she smiled.

Les ruffled her hair like he was an old aunt and she wanted to smack him. He meant well, but his...trust was completely misguided.

"Be a good girl then and show him to your office," he told her, as if she wasn't already aware that Malfoy didn't know where the office was.

I should just not show him. It's not like I want him in my office.

Ginny stared at Malfoy for a moment, considering him and studying him. He was tall and blonde and regal. She hadn't seen him for years, eight to be exact (she was now twenty-four) and she was more than a little miffed by him standing in front of her.

With his height, she noted, he loomed over her, although he wasn't as tall or as broad as Ron. Still, she could tell he'd be able to hold his own in a fight. His eyes were the same steely grey they had been in Hogwarts, but somehow his face looked different: There were still all the familiar angles and lines that she had loathed years ago and yet, he had changed somehow, subtly.

Malfoy appeared to be doing the same with her and she idly wondered what he saw. Did he see Ginny, Harry Potter's widow (and for that matter, did he even know she and Harry had been married)? Did he see a fourteen-year-old girl who was still dirty enough to be teased? She didn't know. She couldn't possibly find out. She wasn't sure she wanted to know anyhow.

Her smile was bitter and she walked toward their office fast, almost hoping that she might lose him on the way, although he would probably find their office soon enough. A couple of seconds to recover from the shock of him would have been nice.

She practically slammed the briefcase she'd been carrying on her desk and then spun around to face Malfoy. He was standing in the middle of the large corner office with shadows weaving about his face.

The shades were still drawn.

With a quick flick of the wrist she took care of that problem and all the darkness lifted. When the sun shone in, it was rather bright in the room, with light glinting off the white walls. She liked it.

Then she looked at Malfoy. He looked uncomfortable in the light. Good, she thought with a satisfied thrill running down her spine, let him be uncomfortable. This is my realm anyways.

"That's my desk, yours is there," she directed. Ginny pointed to his desk: big and brown and clean. Spotlessly clean, in fact.

"Really, Weasley? I hadn't realized," he replied dryly.

She glared at him. "Actually, it's Potter now, thank you very much. And where in the hell did you come from?" she asked rudely. Ginny had been hoping to wait until he was more settled in before asking him what he was doing here, but to hell with it all. He was just Malfoy after all: there was no need to be cordial to him.

"Potter, eh?" Malfoy turned his back on her and walked to what was now his desk. "And never mind where I was."

She snorted.

Without looking at her he asked her a simple question, "What?"

"No rude comments about me or my family? About my husband, perhaps?" she said, peering at him like he was the devil incarnate.

He could feel her gaze burn through him. "No Weasel, not today."

Ginny slumped down on her chair. "Good, we shouldn't have any problems, then."

***

She hated that man. Ginny would even go as far as to say that she loathed Draco Malfoy more so now than she did then. She rubbed her temples wearily. "I didn't even know that was possible!" she moaned to the walls of her flat.

Out of habit she reached for the blue and gold throw pillow that was kept lying around wherever it happened to be and snuggled up to it. She liked it because it held its warmth unlike everything else in her flat. Their flat.

She sighed sadly. Breakfast with Ron was wonderful as usual. She loved her brother dearly. He was funny, kind, protective and just overall a good person. Harry had been a little like Ron in that respect: he had been kind and protective, although he was more likely to be serious than Ron. They had balanced each other out well, she realized.

And now where was she? Now she was stuck with someone like Malfoy. After being lucky enough to have men in her life that cared about her, who loved her and who wanted her, he was made her partner. It felt more like she was being fed to the wolves.

She closed her eyes, allowing her senses to take over. She could feel the warmth of the pillow and she picked up on the different little patterns that were part of it. Seams, her mother said, to help your heart heal.

The taste of pumpkin juice was still on her tongue from earlier. She heard her neighbor's grandfather clock chime through the wall, vibrating along the wood floor. And somewhere behind her closed eyelids she saw her husband laughing, and then an unbidden figure came to the surface of memories: Malfoy, standing in the middle of her office. Only then did she realize he hadn't been watching her with malice, but rather with some other, unidentifiable emotion.

"I miss you Harry," she whispered.

***

There was someone skimming her cheek with their hand. At first, she was alarmed, but soon realized she'd know that hand anywhere: Harry's.

"What is it?" she asked. Her voice sounded muffled, concerned.

Harry smiled. "It's nothing. You're beautiful."

She felt pink creep into her cheeks. "I love you Harry."

Then he vanished and she was standing in the dark. Somewhere. She put her hands flat out in front of her, palms out, trying to feel for a hard wall. Something, anything to let her know where she was.

There seemed to be nothing.

But then she heard it, a blood curdling scream that sent goose pimples racing up her arm and made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Harry's green eyes flashed before her--

"Harry!" Ginny yelled, effectively waking herself up. She was still on their davenport.

She clutched her sides in a desperate act to regain composure. She hadn't had one of those in ages--not since before Harry had died.

The tears started flowing then. She had no desire to find out the truth of what happened with her husband's death. The images had come, they had picked her, but that didn't mean she had to respond.

Ginny was ready to try to fall back asleep when the knock came at her door.

She stood wearily, attempting to smooth out her rumpled clothing, and went to answer it.