Our Winter

~

Chapter 11: Romeo and Juliet, Meet Draco and Ginny

"He kissed me and now I am somebody else." -- Gabriella Mistral, He Kissed Me

~

I know I've made the right decision. Neither of us was ready to be the only people in each other's lives. And it's just not possible for me to abandon my family forever -- I physically can't do it. I kept seeing this image in my head, of the clock in our kitchen at home, the dial that says Ginny forever pointing to 'Whereabouts Unknown' or, heaven forbid, 'In Mortal Danger.' Mum would go mad staring at it.

~

"This is getting to be a habit with you," Ginny noted as she shut her diary.

"Sorry," Ezra mumbled. "I didn't realize anyone else would still be up. I was meeting Seamus , and . . ."

"And we members of the Eternally Screwed With By Fate club always meet up this late in the Gryffindor common room," Ginny noted sadly. "Seamus not joining us tonight? I'd say he's as much a part of it as you and me."

"He wanted some time alone," Ezra said, a slight hitch in her voice.

"Why?" Ginny asked softly.

"Because I told him everything," Ezra confessed. "I tried breaking up with him earlier today, but he kept going on about not accepting it without a good reason. Kept saying that he loved me, making a big deal of it. I told him he shouldn't love me, and that if he was smart, he'd get as far away from me as possible." A tear fell down her cheek. "He said he would, if I told him I didn't love him. So . . . I did."

"Oh, Ezra," Ginny said lamely, getting up and coming to sit beside Ezra, where she'd just collapsed onto the couch.

"It's not fair!" Ezra sobbed. "I've just found someone that I love, and it's all going to be taken away. I'm going to have an awful life, with an awful marriage and there's nothing I can do about it. It's not fair to me, or to Seamus , or to you. It's not even fair to that miserable little troll I have to marry!"

"No, it's not fair at all," Ginny agreed quietly. "But whinging about it isn't going to help."

"Ginny," Ezra said, sounding aggrieved.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said firmly, "but you're going to have to get off this self-pity kick you've been on for the better part of your life. Marrying Draco is not a fate worse than death. I would kill to be you, Ezra," she said desperately.

"But I don't love him," Ezra said, somewhat hysterically. "You do, and bully for you, but I can't stand him!"

"That's not true," Ginny said stubbornly, "it's not true on either of your parts. You resent each other, but you shouldn't. You're both involved, and if you're going to survive it, you're going to have to be in it together. I intend to tell him the same thing."

"It's easy for you to say," Ezra began hotly.

"No, it's really not," Ginny said simply. "It's the hardest thing I've ever had to say, but I'm going to, because I care about you both too much to let it go. It's got to be you and him against everything else, because you'll both be eaten alive if it isn't. There's so much coming, Ezra, so much I still don't know . . . but the one thing I do know, is that we're all going to have to pick sides. We're going to have to trust each other, and if you and Draco can't be in love, at the very least, you can be partners."

"You don't understand," Ezra stubbornly insisted. "You can't imagine what it's like to have your entire life's happiness decided by a couple of plotting old men!"

"Right," Ginny said stiffly, "I'm sure Seamus and I have no idea what that feels like." Gathering up her diary and quill, Ginny stood up and turned to leave.

"I'm sorry," Ezra called out. "I'm so sorry you've gotten hurt--"

"Don't be sorry," Ginny said stoically, not turning around. "Just make sure it's worth it, Ezra. Make sure all this pain doesn't turn into what your father's want it to. If you can't do it for yourselves, or each other, or, Lord knows, for the future of the world, please, do it for Seamus and me and for what we've lost."

Then, Ginny headed up to the girl's dormitories, leaving Ezra staring behind her.

~

The next day seemed to go by like a blur, the time slipping away no matter how hard Ginny tried to make it last.

Breakfast was a tense affair, Ginny avoiding Ron's questions of why she looked so tired. Once Harry and Hermione came down to breakfast, he backed off, the three of them going into a huddle for the rest of the morning. Ginny had never been so grateful for their troika before in her life. The last thing she wanted was to explain to people who didn't like Draco that she was despondent over losing him.

Morning dragged on, but the moment afternoon came, the moment she trudged down to the lake and saw him standing by the water, head bowed in almost poetic defeat, time seemed to rush by.

He greeted her with a kiss, and it made her cry; he teased her about the way her brother had been casting him dirty looks over breakfast, and it made her cry. The way he brushed his knuckles against her cheek made her cry, and when he started to read from one of the books she'd brought, the sound of his voice made her cry, because she imagined it was the way he'd sound reading his children to sleep.

"And then the noble wizard slit his own wrists because he could tell the love his life wasn't even listening, the end," Draco concluded dryly.

"Sorry," Ginny said, blinking. The sun was setting and the crisp night air was upon them. She had been lulled by the sound of his voice, she realized.

"Where were you?" he asked curiously.

"Right here," she assured him. His head rested in her lap and she sat upright against a tree. Her fingers drifted through his hair lazily. "Just feeling sorry for myself."

"I think you're bored off your arse by A Wizard by Any Other Name."

"Could be," she conceded with a small grin, staring down into his face.

Tossing A Wizard by Any Other Name aside, Draco rifled through her bag until he produced a book of mythology from her Muggle Studies class. He flipped through it as though he were looking for something in particular.

"What are you looking for?" she asked softly.

"Something Ezra and I never read together," he said firmly. "Something that can just be yours and mine."

"I like the sound of that." She continued to stroke his hair as he looked, memorizing the expression on his face so that she could always remember how beautiful he was when he concentrated totally on something.

"Here we are," he pronounced at last, and he began to read.

This time, Ginny was unable to do anything but concentrate fully on the story, enthralled with the tale of Cupid and Psyche.

In the fable, Cupid, the son of Gods, fell in love with Psyche and gave her everything her heart desired. Defying his mother's wishes, he married Psyche and all that he asked of her was that she not look upon his face. He made love to her in the dark and left her alone in a grand house in the day. Psyche's sisters, jealous of their sister's good fortune, convinced Psyche that her husband was a terrible and monstrous serpent, and that she must look upon him, and if it was so, kill him.

But Cupid was no monster; his golden ringlets and snowy skin the perfect accompaniment for a being with wings of an angel. Psyche injured Cupid terribly, physically by accidentally spilling the oil from her candle upon his flesh and emotionally by betraying his trust.

Cupid left Psyche, and she was forced to wander the earth in search of her lover. Finally, she came upon Cupid's mother, Venus, and begged her for her help. Venus devised a series of tests impossible in scope, sure that Psyche would fail. Seeing this, Cupid lent his resources to Psyche's aid, allowing her to succeed at each of his mother's tasks.

"Then Cupid," Draco said, his voice possessing the gentle timbre of a natural storyteller, "as swift as lightning penetrating the heights of heaven, presented himself before Jupiter with his supplication. Jupiter lent a favoring ear, and pleaded the cause of the lovers so earnestly with Venus that he won her consent. On this he sent Mercury to bring Psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she arrived, handing her a cup of ambrosia, he said, ´Drink this, Psyche, and be immortal; nor shall Cupid ever break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these nuptials shall be perpetual.´ Thus Psyche became at last united to Cupid, and in due time, they had a daughter born to them whose name was Pleasure." He paused, brows knit, staring down at the book for a moment. "Not much of an ending, is it?" he said at last. "More like it just ends."

"Not really," Ginny disagreed. "They lived happily ever after, didn't they?"

"It's not going to be us, Gin," Draco said harshly. Harsher than he'd intended, she could tell, from the instant flair of guilt in his eyes.

It was pitch-black now, and Draco had been reading by the light of his wand. She took the book from his hand and set it aside, both her hands losing themselves in his hair, massaging his scalp gently.

"No," she agreed quietly. "It won't be us. But we do have something, Draco, something no one will ever be able to take away from us."

"And what's that?" he asked, his voice tinged with bitterness.

"How much I love you," she told him in a sure, quiet voice. "And how much I know you love me, even if you do have a bit of trouble saying the words unless I´m upset with you."

"I love you," he said, almost grudgingly. "I've said it before."

"Yes, and now you've said it again," she agreed, her voice smug.

"Witch," he muttered.

"Not just yet," she disagreed. "I've got another year at school still."

"Brat," he growled as he sat up, pulled her beneath him and began kissing her senseless. Muttering an incantation under his breath, Draco doused the light on the end of his wand.

"Don't fancy looking at me?" she murmured playfully.

"Don't fancy any of the perverts up in Gryffindor Tower looking at you," he muttered, undoing the emerald cloak she wore.

Their mouths met again and again, gentle, playful presses of lip to lip as they divested one another of clothing. His hands took greedy passes at her skin, moving over her body at a hurried, near frantic pace, as though he would never be able to touch enough of her. Ginny was torn between closing her eyes, to pretend this wouldn't be the last time she'd ever hold him, and keeping them open wide, to memorize the exact position of each of the stars in the sky as he made love to her.

Wrapped up in his arms, their bodies rocking together gently, Ginny caught their reflection in the still waters of the lake. They were beautiful, tangled together, and as she stared, she realized Draco was looking at the same thing. They both turned toward each other at once, and she reached her hand up to brush the silver-blond hair away from his face.

"What else is there?" she asked desperately, their foreheads pressed together, beads of sweat mingling against their flesh, her brain short-circuiting in the face of this precious, simple closeness. "There can't possibly be another world out there besides this one, there just can't be."

He didn't answer, only kissed her again and again and again, until she forgot what she was trying to say, forgot that other world, forgot everything but how easy it was to love him.

Later, beneath the darkened sky, still wrapped around each other, she remembered how to think and worry and ache. And in her head she heard words whispering over and over, not in her voice, nor in Draco's, not in any voice she could recognize clearly, but they were an answer, the only answer she had, the only shred of hope she had to cling to:

~

Monday was the hardest day. It was strange, not worrying over whatever task Draco had set out for her. She had only been "following his orders" for just under a month, and yet it seemed unthinkable to no longer do so. It was amazing how quickly a person could adapt to a new life. Would she adapt to life without him just as fast?

Classes were easy, given that they were the only time it seemed that Ginny didn't have to see Draco. At lunch, it seemed Draco was always staring at her, though she did her best to avoid his gaze. In the halls, it was as though she had some sort of Draco Homing Beacon and would inevitably drift toward where he was walking. They'd nearly collided half a dozen times.

The most painful moment was when Draco had actually approached her, trying to explain that his and Ezra's mothers had placed an announcement in the morning's Daily Prophet, celebrating his and Ezra's forthcoming marriage. He didn't want Ginny to hear it from someone else, he said, and she hadn't been able to do anything but nod and turn away from him.

That night, she'd cried herself to sleep and Tuesday wasn't shaping up to be any better. It was lunchtime and she was sitting out by the lake, leaning up against the same tree she and Draco had read under so many times; the tree they'd made love under. Just the thought was enough to prompt a fresh wave of tears, and she really was getting sick of crying so much.

"May I?"

Snapping her head up, Ginny frowned to see a robed figure standing before her. Something about the voice, though . . .

"Cassandra?" Ginny asked, sniffing.

"Yes," Cassandra confirmed, taking a seat beside Ginny. They were silent for a time, until Cassandra spoke softly. "It's been a cold winter, hasn't it?"

"Not as cold as some," Ginny disagreed quietly, thinking of how she hadn't been able to feel the chill in the air at all as she and Draco slept beneath the stars.

"And it seems to have gone on quite long," she continued.

"Not nearly long enough," Ginny said with a humorless laugh.

Cassandra sighed. "I've come to deliver a message."

"What message?" Ginny mumbled.

"You have passed your test."

"Yay," Ginny said hollowly.

"I'm sorry," Cassandra said softly. "So very sorry that it had to be this way."

Ginny's eyebrows knit together. "Why are you sorry? What are you on about?"

Cassandra took a deep breath, her face shadowed, both by the hood she wore and the thick black fall of her hair. Cassandra's hands sat placidly atop her thighs, and, Ginny noticed, appeared sturdy and lightly callused as though accustomed to physical stress.

"There are portents and prophecies at work here," Cassandra began slowly. "The Aurors that are among the Order's members have seen as far into the future as they are able, and we have heard their counsel. An unlikely figure was placed squarely at the center of the little melodrama the world will soon find itself in, a figure whose loyalties in the coming days is undecided."

"Draco," Ginny guessed softly.

"Yes," Cassandra confirmed, and there was a smile in her voice. "At the center, was Draco. But you, Ginny, were hovering around him."

"Me?" Ginny did not mention her own dreams and visions. There was so little she genuinely understood about them, and so much yet to learn.

"We know what you will be someday, with or without us," Cassandra continued. "Your road will simply be faster, and filled with fewer obstacles with our help."

"My road," Ginny said slowly.

"We are also aware of all that Malfoy could be someday; we know who he might have been had he never known you, and we know who he has the chance to be, now that he has. All that is left for us to do now, is hope. I am very, very sorry that your heart has been caught in the middle."

"What about his heart?" Ginny asked hoarsely, fury bubbling up beneath the layers of pain around her heart. "Don't you have any platitudes for what this has done to him? He's the one who has to marry someone he doesn't love!"

"His heart has always been the issue," Cassandra said gently. "His heart is the reason Draco Malfoy was made your task. It required special care, care that our Aurors assured us only you could give."

"I don't understand," Ginny said miserably.

"You will," Cassandra said gently.

"I'm so sick of people telling me that," Ginny snapped. "I'm sick of being told it will be all right someday, with no guarantee of when, or even how. I'm sick of knowing that I'm going to love him until I die, and I'll never be able to have him again. I hate that me loving him has to be treated like it's some dirty little secret no one must ever know about, because if they did, his father would go into a mad rage and have me killed!" She laughed, a bit hysterically. "Can you believe that? My not-quite-boyfriend's father would actually have me killed."

"Not all secrets are dirty," Cassandra said kindly.

Ginny gave her a confused look, and Cassandra pulled back the hood of her robe, letting her long black hair fall away from her face. Ginny gasped.

"Cho?" she whispered.

Cho Chang grinned at her, her eyes as big and lovely as ever, her hair the finely spun silk Ginny had coveted for as long as she could remember. "We all have our little secrets," Cho confided quietly. "Secrets that no one in the world ever fully understand; secrets that are never really put to rest. Perhaps Mr. Malfoy will always be yours."

~

Wednesday went surprisingly well.

Professor McGonagall excused Ginny from class because a representative from the Daily Prophet wished to speak to her. Ginny spent the day having an impromptu interview for what would be her very first summer internship. She'd been a member of the Order for less than 24 hours, and already doors were opening wide for her.

Her first story assignment was enough to make her laugh, but only because she'd had enough of crying recently: she was to get quotes from the soon-to-be Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy and write one thousand words or less on what a lovely couple they made for a future article. If she did a good enough job, it would be published; if she turned in a crap story, it would be a damn long time before she was allowed to write another.

Draco passed his N.E.W.T.s with flying colors, even managing to get a ninety on his Herbology final. Ginny was positive it would have been a perfect score if they had spent more of their time in the past few days studying instead of . . . well.

Ezra had started walking along the halls with Draco. They seemed to be making an effort at being friends, for which Ginny was grateful. She hadn't spoken to Ezra since that last night in the common room, and while Ginny was sorry for the distance between them, she honestly wasn't sure that she could handle anything else. It caused her physical pain to think of Ezra and Draco marrying and it was hard enough, getting through each day, seeing them together, without having to put up a brave front for Ezra.

Sometimes, Draco would pass her in the halls, he with his friends, Ginny with Kyle and Lysandra, and they would look at each other at the same moment, in the same way, and she would realize: this was all they were to each other now, longing glances across a sea of people. And she would think, how maudlin and sad, then grow incredibly depressed to remember that this wasn't a story, it was her life, and her broken heart.

But her heart wasn't quite all broken any longer. It was damaged, certainly, but maybe not beyond all repair. Because Ginny had been thinking a lot lately. She'd done little else but think, and had come to the following conclusion: if her relationship with Draco had some sort of preordained quality to it . . . it couldn't just end. Fated things didn't just end. Fate itself wouldn't be that cruel. She wouldn't hope out loud, of course, wouldn't even hope in the pages of her diary, but in her heart, deep, deep down where she couldn't check in on it every day, she would believe that one day, everything would be all right.

~