White Noise

Chapter 14: The Martyr

Three weeks had gone by and she still was not allowed to see him. Three long weeks, lost in the vortex of time forever. She was kicking herself now, for not telling him how she felt. For not expressing to him how she felt. However that was.

She slid in between the sheets of her bed and let her head sink into the feather pillow. Instinctively she turned her head to the side of the bed that Harry used to occupy. He had been gone a year tomorrow. Ginny reached out her hand and touched the pillow, imagining it was Harry. Or maybe not even Harry, but someone, some person who was there, who was attainable, who was willing to hold and be held in return.

Even now, she could still see Harry lying next to her, sleeping next to her. If she concentrated just hard enough, she could make out the steady rise and fall of his chest.

She missed her husband, but on an even baser, instinctive level, she missed having someone of her own. Foolishly, her ego had thought Draco might be that man and if not today, then someday maybe.

Ginny sighed, running her hands along the smooth fabric of their, no her, sheets. There is no their anymore, Ginny. There's only you. Me.

The revelation that she could no longer think in terms of 'us' or 'we' came as a startling revelation to Ginny: she had found that she was no longer part of a team, be it Harry's or Draco's, or even her family's team, but she rather stood alone. Decisions were hers to make and hers alone. She didn't have to worry about what others would think or say.

It was a scary realization, to say the least.

She rolled out of bed, shivering a little when her feet hit the cold hardwood floor of her bedroom. Ginny immediately went to the closet and pulled out the pair of jeans she'd thrown there earlier that evening. She put the nearest top she could find and then slipped her feet into a pair of tennis shoes, leaving the socks in her drawer.

***

It was the first time she'd been to Harry's gravesite since the funeral.

Leaves littered the cemetery and she had to take a moment to remember the exact location of Harry's grave but once she did, she seemed to gravitate right to it.

She pressed her hands into her thighs as she sat down cross-legged next to her husband's grave. Ginny touched the dirt that covered it and managed to look at the headstone. She smiled upon reading the still shining words etched across the center in a fine font:

Harry James Potter

Loved Husband. Dear Brother. Best Mate.

Sense shines with a double luster

When it is set in humility.

An able and yet humble man is

A jewel worth a kingdom.

- William Penn

She had opted to not put his birth and death dates on the marker because really, did it matter how long he was on the earth? Wasn't it more important just to know that he once was here and now he wasn't? She was still happy with her decision.

It was perhaps an odd choice of a quote to put on his headstone, but to Ginny, it fit Harry perfectly. He was the sensible man. He was able and willing; he gave without receiving and the entire time, he didn't even realize he did these things. To him, he was not greatness. To him, Hermione was sensible, and Ron was able, and it was Ginny who was the jewel worth an entire kingdom. He never would have thought those things to be him. To be so totally Harry. Ginny had read that quote and knew instantly that it was the one. It was as if this William Penn, whoever he was, had written it concerning Harry and Ginny had to have it, whatever the cost.

She pressed her fingers to her mouth and then to the granite stone. "There are so many things I have to say to you, I'm afraid it might take all night," she whispered nearly apologetically.

"I'm sorry this is the first time I've been here to visit. I didn't think I was strong enough before." She lifted her head to the dark sky, letting the brisk night air wash over her. "I'm tougher now though."

She continued their one-sided conversation with her face turned toward the heavens. "There were days I honestly didn't know if I would make it, Harry. There have been so many bad days; but so many good days as well."

Ginny took in a deep, heavy breath. The heady scent of fall filled her nose and she felt completely calm. She felt totally in control. "I need to know a couple of things, Harry, and I'm sure you have the answers. That is, you've always had the answers. The problem has been whether or not you're willing to share them."

She knew she would look silly to an outsider, sitting next to a grave and talking to thin air, but she shrugged these thoughts away from herself and concentrated only on the matter at hand. "It would be really great if you could give those answers now. Give up your great, big secret. Too many things are at stake here. People's freedoms are in jeopardy.

"You knew it was Dakotah all along, didn't you? You knew that she had killed that family in Nottingham, that man in St. Petersburg. Why didn't you ever report it to Les? Or, at the very least, why didn't you tell me? I would have stood by you; I could have helped.

"Instead you turned to Draco Malfoy." She shuddered as for a fleeting moment, it was as if his fingers were caressing her again, touching her in places she hadn't known existed. "You figured it was Dakotah, but had to be sure, and Draco was the only one who could confirm your suspicions; then you had Les arrange it so that you and Draco would be working on the case covertly.

"It really was a brilliant plan Harry, except for a couple of things. You're dead now, Les is dead and Ron just arrested Draco for your murder, after Dakotah pointed her long finger in his direction, of course."

Ginny sat silent for a moment, listening to the sounds of the night, trying to decipher a message from Harry in the hoot of an owl or the rustling of leaves. There was nothing but an elusive silence.

"Draco wasn't involved in your murder Harry. I know he wasn't. I think Ron even knows it; trouble is I've got no idea as to how to prove that. These last three weeks since his arrest, I have looked through your desk drawer, through old shoeboxes full of old letters, hell I've even looked through the junk drawer in the kitchen. There's nothing," she said the words as a heavy sigh.

"Help me Harry. Please, give me a sign or something, anything," she pled softly.

She waited for what could have been a minute or fifty-nine of them and still there was nothing.

Drawing her knees to her chest, she balanced her chin on her left knee and continued to gaze at Harry's headstone silently. "I could never, will never, believe that Draco is even minutely guilty, Harry."

Pulling away from her knees, she continued speaking to the wind, this time in a more forceful tone.

"You may have hated Draco while we were in school and perhaps you did even as you worked alongside him, but I can't imagine that you ever wanted him to be arrested for something he wasn't responsible for. That's not the Harry I married." A strangling sound escaped her lips.

She took a very deep breath, allowing the night air to expand and fill her lungs until she couldn't take in any more. Then she held the air there until she felt ready to burst and let it out in one big rush of air.

"I didn't realize how much of you was still here, Harry. I've loved you for so long that I've been afraid of letting you go." She felt as if she was breaking up with him and perhaps, in some small way, she was. "There will always be a part of me with you Harry. Always. And I will always love you in a safe corner of my heart."

She stood up, feeling the muscles in her legs stretch and pull. She relished in the feeling of simply being alive. And when she finally walked away from her husband, promising to visit again, and soon, she felt much lighter, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her chest.

***

Her heels clicked on the tile floor of the Auror Academy where Ron worked. It wasn't really an academy, although some students trained and studied there, but more or less a long building with corridors leading to this Auror's office and that Auror's office. Ron's was the last office down the third hallway to the left, if you were coming from the front entrance, the way Ginny was coming.

She was furious.

"Whoa!" Ron called out, surprised when his door flung open, smacking loudly into the metal filing cabinet that had always been in the way. He had a big goofy, dopey grin spread across his face. "To what do I owe this surprise?"

At the look on her face, his smile disappeared and he sighed and rubbed his chin wearily. "Why do I get the feeling this isn't going to be a pleasant visit?"

She kicked the office door shut with her foot and glared at him, her arms crossed over her chest. "I don't know what the hell you're getting at, but it isn't funny. It's juvenile, childish and something I'm sure Harry wouldn't approve of!"

To Ron's credit, he looked befuddled when he asked a resounding, "What?"

She nearly shook, she was so angry. "You're taking Draco to court!" she hissed. "He's going to appear before the Ministry of Magic when you know he's innocent!"

"It's standard procedure, you know that." He was bristling under the intensity of her stare. "Besides, Malfoy isn't denying the accusation."

"Harry wouldn't like this at all, Ron," she finally said quietly even though inside she felt like she might explode. "You're allowing an innocent person to stand for murder. You're only doing this because you hate him," she accused.

She started moving toward the door, but Ron interrupted her by muttering something unintelligible.

"What did you say?" she demanded, frustrated and tired.

"I said: if you honestly think that's what I'm doing, blaming Draco Malfoy for Harry's death because I hate him, then you don't know me at all," he told her. His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Oh yeah? Then what are you doing?" she asked without turning around.

"Trying to find the bastard who murdered my best mate."

Ginny turned to face him, with one more idea in mind. "So am I, Ron. So am I. Harry was my husband, of course I want to find his murderer... but Ron, it's not Draco. You've arrested her...please, let me at least talk to Draco."

Ron shook his head vehemently. "No Ginny, I won't allow it." Thatches of red hair fell in his eyes as he continued shaking his head.

Her heart sank. "Please Ron, I'm begging you. You know I would never ask something of this magnitude unless it was really important. You know how critical this is."

He eyed her suspiciously. "Why do you want to?"

"Because he was my partner? Because I care for him as a--a--a friend?" she replied, as if they were the most obvious answers in the world. She bit her bottom lip and started chewing on it. "Ron, please. His trial is closed to the public...I just...really need this, please?"

She hated feeling vulnerable, especially in front of her big brother. It made her feel weak and she had a niggling sense that it gave him something to hold over her, seeing her like this. She was afraid he would use this afternoon against her when he was feeling particularly immature.

He regarded her with a wariness that made her wonder if she had grown another head in the last ten minutes since she'd seen her reflection.

Finally, he spoke up. "If I give you five minutes will you finally shut up and leave me alone to do my work?" he asked as he held up one hand with his fingers spread wide, emphasizing the five minute time limit he'd set.

A wave of relief washed over her. She threw her arms around her brother's neck in a quick hug, giving him a peck on the cheek as she did so. "Thank you Ron, thank you! I take back every mean thing I've ever said about you!"

Ron's chuckle was a comfortable, familiar sound Ginny hadn't realized she had missed until she heard it. "No, you don't. The next time I say or do something to piss you off, I'm sure you'll regret ever saying such a thing."

"Now, when do you want to do this?"

***

She followed Ron to the bottommost level of the Ministry of Magic, where they were keeping Draco in a small, concrete block of a room. She felt the air get colder as she descended into the basement.

Ginny had never been down this far and she was keenly aware of why she'd never felt the need to as soon as the strong scent of mildew assaulted her nose. The air tasted stale in her mouth.

Ron led her to the end room, which was nothing more than a hole in a cement wall and looked at her as if to ask, "You're sure you want to do this?"

She nodded and pursed her lips together. Yes, she was sure.

Her brother performed a series of quick, unrecognizable flicks of his wand and the bolt holding the door shut creaked and groaned as it unlocked. Ron motioned toward his watch, once again telling her she only had five minutes.

Ginny rolled her eyes at this and then disappeared into the small block. Ron shut the door behind her.

The air in the holding room was cold and tasted bitter. She felt her nerve leave her, if only for a moment.

"What do you want?" Draco's voice filled the small room.

It was dark in the room; Ginny could only barely see Draco's outline, sitting on the bed pushed into the corner.

"It's me, Draco." Her voice was loud in the still room.

She heard the bedsprings creak and bed sheets rustle. "What the hell...?"

Ginny moved toward the center of the room. "I only have five minutes and then I have to leave. Draco, let me help you. There has to be some way to prove that you are innocent--"

"Ginny," Draco interrupted.

She continued talking, ignoring his sharp interruptions. "You must have alibis that can attest to that."

"Ginny, listen to me!" Draco snapped.

She was shocked into silence. "What?" she asked then, confused.

"You won't find any alibis and even if you did, it wouldn't matter."

Ginny swallowed the lump in her throat. There was something in his tone that made her uneasy.

Finally having adjusted to the darkness, she was able to make out Draco's features. His already thin face was now even thinner. His shoulders stooped. To her, he looked years older than he had three weeks ago.

"Why?" she asked even though she dreaded the answer.

His light eyes met her dark ones. "I'm pleading guilty."

Her jaw dropped. "You can't," she protested weakly.

"I can and I am," he leveled with her.

Ginny was too flabbergasted to say anything.

"What? You're not going to argue with me?" he asked snidely.

That rallied a response from her. "Why the hell would you do that? You're innocent, for God's sake!"

"What makes you so sure I am?" he growled.

She blinked in surprise. She stumbled back a couple of steps when her knees buckled. Draco was immediately at her side, holding her and making sure she didn't fall to the cold, wet floor.

His breath was hitting her in the face, hot and warm but not unwelcome. She grasped his shoulders and he brought his face down to nuzzle her neck. "How much time do we have?" His voice was muffled, his face in her hair.

Her hands stroked his back. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the tears there to retreat. "Not nearly enough," she whispered huskily.

The silence was nerve wrecking and too loud. Ginny piped up, "Draco, don't do this. Please."

He stiffened. "Let me be," he warned, pulling away from her and turning his back to her.

She shook her head violently, a splash of red filling the gray room as her hair fell from the ribbon holding it back. "No Draco, you aren't going to shut me out. Not now, I won't let you. I refuse to be shut out." She reached out to touch him but he wrenched his arm out of her reach.

"Leave me alone!"

"No! Not until you tell me why you're doing this!" she demanded.

Draco whipped back around to face her. "Why? You want to know why?" he yelled. His voice reverberated off the walls and down Ginny's spine. "Because this is what I deserve! This is my penitence!" He motioned around the dreary cell. "This is my destiny!"

"No, Draco--"

"Yes, Ginny!" he interrupted. "This is where I'm destined to be. This is where my father ended up, where his father ended up and now it's my turn."

"You are not your father," was all she could say.

He snorted. "Maybe not, but I am my father's son and that is enough."

"Stop it Draco, stop trying to be the martyr--"

"Is that what you think?" he cut her off. "That I'm trying to be the martyr?"

She nodded vehemently. "Yes that's what I think! I think you're trying to be noble when nobility is not what I want! I don't want you to be noble, I just want you to be with me!" she shouted. Ginny had not meant to admit those words to him or anyone, for that matter, but now that they were out there, floating between them, she didn't regret saying them. "Draco..." she started, but wasn't able to finish because of the catch in her throat.

Ginny brought her hands up to her hair and pulled on its ends, aggravated beyond reason with Draco. Her hands trembled with anger. "So that's it then? You're just going to throw in the towel?"

He leaned against the filthy wall, watching her intently. "I'm hardly 'just going to throw in the towel,' as you so eloquently put it."

"Oh then what are you doing?" she asked. "Please, enlighten me," she asked sarcastically.

"Fulfilling my destiny," he responded darkly. His eyes bore through her and she felt him looking into her soul.

Ginny looked away from him. "Fine then...have a good life," she said brusquely. She turned to go but Draco stepped in front of her.

Within moments, he pressed his mouth to hers in a soft, simply kiss. It was a kiss to say goodbye.

***

Outside the cell, Ron checked his watch uneasily. It had been much longer than the allotted five minutes. It had been nearly half-an-hour, but Ron was not comfortable with the thought of interrupting them. For reasons unknown, he knew they needed this time alone together. It would be their last time alone.

Just then, the door pulled open and Ginny stepped out, looking no worse than she did when she'd gone in. Ron figured that meant one of two things: their meeting had gone exactly as expected, or not at all. He never got a chance to ask though, for she was up the stairs and out the hall before he even had the cell door locked.

***

The morning of Draco's hearing, Ginny left work early. Besides, it wasn't imperative that she was there. If she had thought she was treated like an outcast in the days and weeks following Harry's death, she did not know what to call herself now. People didn't just tiptoe around her; they completely avoided her. Worst of all, she could not find it in her to confront them. And so, she left early.

She went home first to dress in her best black dress robes. They were the same robes she had worn to her husband's funeral and she figured a sentencing was nearly the same as a funeral and therefore, it was worthy of the expensive dress robes of simple elegance.

Ginny took her time putting her make-up, choosing the colors carefully. A light brown blush for her cheeks and green shadow for her eyes. Then she magicked her hair into a loose bun, soft tendrils framing her face.

Looking in the mirror, she decided she scarcely looked any better than the day of the funeral.

She shrugged, decided that she was not going to look any better today, and left for the Ministry of Magic.

***

It wasn't hard to figure out in which Accusation Hall Draco's sentencing was taking place. For even though there were no signs pointing her in the right direction and no one would even hint at the direction to her, she overheard their whispers and was able to find the room easily.

Standing in front of the tall, foreboding double doors, Ginny pondered how she would get in. She was able to conjure up a mental image of the room and located, and counted, all of the entrances in her mind. There were three leading in the room. It didn't take a genius to know that each of those doors would be protected by at least four different locking charms.

It was when she recounted the doors that she remembered the balcony with its own private entrance. She recalled her father commenting that this door was never locked, simply because most people forgot it even existed.

She opted to take the back staircase, mainly because she didn't want to get caught.

The door was two flights up. Reaching for the doorknob, she only hesitated slightly. If the door creaked at all, she would be thrown out of the Ministry and most likely not allowed to ever come back. Was she willing to risk it?

Ginny thought about what it would be like to never see him again and her heart clenched. She forced herself to think about her life without Draco and she snorted at the irony of it all. If anyone had said to her that she would be standing here and contemplating how boring life would be without Draco Malfoy, she would have fallen on the floor laughing. It wasn't so funny now.

She could barely stand the thought of never talking to him again, of never yelling at him again or never again kissing him. Still, she knew it would hurt worse to not see the sentencing, even if she knew what the punishment would be. It was then she had a mind-blowing revelation. She was in love with Draco Malfoy.

As staggering as that thought was, Ginny didn't have time to dwell on it. So she shook her head, decided squeaking doors be damned, and she opened the door slowly. She exhaled with relief when the doors opened silently.

Ginny slipped quietly into the front row and leaned over the balcony railing to get a better view.

The trial had already started. Draco sat in the middle of the circular room. Even though there were no ropes or chains visible, Ginny knew magic bound his hands together behind his back and his body to the chair. She was ill prepared for the utter loss she felt as she looked at him, shackled and bound.

She swallowed hard and then looked around the room. She saw Ron's red head, sitting facing Draco. Her father was present too, as was Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa's platinum blonde head shined like a beacon in the otherwise dreary room. Ginny wondered at how hard this must be for her, to watch her son go on trial. She wondered if Narcissa realized that Draco was innocent. That she had raised a good and decent son.

Even at a distance, Ginny knew the woman was worried about her son. She didn't look worried, necessarily, but how could she not be?

Ginny's gaze flickered back to Draco. His head was bent down and weariness seemed to press his shoulders down. She wanted to hold him, to kiss him and tell him everything would be all right even if it would not be.

When Ron stood up and made his way toward Draco, she felt lightheaded and gripped the balcony railing so that her knuckles turned white. Ron leaned over the rail that was separating him from Draco. Ginny saw Draco flinch, knowing it was hard for him to be so close to her brother.

She heard Ron's low murmuring, but could not make out the words.

"Please repeat the question, Mr. Weasley," the man in the judge's seat asked. He was not anyone Ginny recognized and if she wasn't completely off the mark, he was a foreigner with an odd accent. It was almost a Yankee accent. Either way, it was funny hearing her brother referred to as Mr. Weasley, which was usually a title reserved for only their father.

Ron turned his face to the man in the holding the gavel. "I asked Mr. Malfoy here, how he pleads."

The silence was so loud, Ginny strained to hear Draco's answer. She wouldn't be able to believe that he would plead guilty until she heard it.

The tension in the room was palpable. So thick was it, she could taste it. Without realizing she was doing it, her eyes fluttered shut as she waited with bated breath for his reply.

"Guilty."

His answer was loud and clear even though his voice was weak.

She could not stand to hear another word, so she slipped out of the room as quietly as she had entered. When she was finally back in the hall, she fell to her knees sobbing, knowing she had truly loved and lost.

***

She gave herself one week, and one week only, to grieve for her loss. On the seventh morning, she rose from her bed, pulled on her fluffy bathrobe and padded into the kitchen barefoot.

In the kitchen, she composed a letter to the Liaisons office informing them of her resignation. She would be packed and out of her office within two weeks, she wrote to the office secretary, Carolinia Douglass, who was acting in charge until everything had settled down and they found a replacement for Les.

She took her time eating, showering and dressing that morning. And when she was finally dressed, she decided to walk herself to the cemetery to pay her respects to Les and then to Harry.

Ginny picked flowers on the way to the cemetery, a bouquet for Les. She knelt down by Les' grave. There were dozens of fresh flowers surrounding his headstone along with a moving picture of him and his family. She couldn't help but notice how happy they all looked.

She smiled.

"Rest in peace, Les," she whispered before making her way to Harry's grave.

Leaves covered most of the gravesite and Ginny took her time brushing them away. When she had a spot cleared, she pulled out her wand and performed a spell to thaw the ground. Then she dug a small hole at the base of the headstone.

She had carried scissors in her pocket, the same pocket she carried her wand in. Then she pulled at a small section of her red hair and cut two inches off. Ginny knew she might look funny with a section of hair shorter, although it wasn't really noticeable. This did not matter to her.

Then, laying the strands of hair gently down on the snow, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her wedding band. With nimble fingers, she tied her hair around the ring. When she was done, she put her ring and hair in the small hole she had dug and covered it with the cold dirt and then leaves. There didn't appear to be a disturbance.

She patted the earth, taking pleasure in the dirt on her hands, in the chill in the air. She stood up, feeling better about her life than she had in a long time. She was alone, yes, but she would take this time to learn about herself, to be her own witch and to grow as a person. She grinned.

As she walked toward home, she couldn't help but notice the sunlight shining through the bare branches, nearly blinding her. Nevertheless, she continued walking in its direction, where only bright, sunny skies lay ahead.