Know That I Can't

Know That I Can't

Chapter Three

By Michelle Malfoy

Angel stared at me for a while after I finished my story before saying anything. Then her trusting and loving gray eyes swiched into accusatory-mode. "You lied to me," she accused. "You hid that from me all these years... and it was something that you could have told me, it wouldn't have harmed anyone. You should have told me." But then her gaze softened, and I saw the love in her eyes. "But then... you were only trying to protect me. I know what you mean, actually. You want me away from all the evils in this world, and you want me to be safe. Safe from all harm."

I nodded, surprised with her firm grasp of the concept. "Thanks, Dad," she finally croaked. "I'm glad you kept it from me, actually. I - I don't think I would have been ready. I'm not even sure that I'm ready now, but thank you for telling me." I nodded to her once, and passed her one of my journals, whispering the password first - "Ginevra."

She opened it cleverly to the last page. That's Angel for you - clever as anything. She read:

'Journal-'

It was quite illegible and tear-blotted, but Angel was able to read it.

'Can't write much today. Michelle sent me a letter today while Ginny and I were on vacation. The original copy of the letter is in my stationary box, with all the letters from Ginny to me. She told me that Father Lucius Malfoy kidnapped Ginny for information about Harry Potter. So I apparated to Malfoy Manor, and Michelle ushered me down to the dungeon. I saw my adorable baby daughter -' here Angel smiled - 'Angel trapped in a cage.' She stopped smiling. 'Lucius was torturing Ginny with the Cruciatus Curse, and I immediately brought Angel to her mother. I didn't want her to be like Harry Potter, with no parents to speak of, and having never said good-bye to them... And anyway, that action might mean that when I die, I'll see Ginny and I won't have to see Lucius. No question about it, Lucius is going to hell. So Ginny, holding Angel and pleading me to take good care of her after she died, was murdered by Lucius. Angel, however, was not killed. She was left with a lightning scar on her forehead.

Déjà vu.

Should I tell Potter? No, I won't. He loved Ginny, and if I tell him about how Angel was saved, he won't think it's fair. He'll hate Angel for living instead of Ginny.

I will always love Angel, as this was Ginny's last request, but I don't blame Potter for resenting her.

Draco

Angel leaned over and cried on my shoulder, and I held her there, savoring the familiar touch and remebering her mother's touch. Not, of course, that the two were anything alike, particularly because now, I was comforting Angel.

"Daddy," Angel whispered after sobbing for so long, "Could you carry me up to bed?" I did what she said, cradling her in my arms and Apparating to her bedroom. When I had tucked her in and seated myself on the stool next to her king-size bed, I asked her if she'd like me to tell her a story. Ginny had always loved my imagination - I could always create an action-packed, suspenseful mystery romance adventure story, and it would be good.

"Tell me the story of... Harry Potter." I stared at her; she had never asked for that story before, though I thought I had always been ready for it.

"Are you sure you don't want the man himself to tell you that one?" I asked wearily. "Or his wife Hermione, or Samantha...?"

"Fine. Get whoever you want in here. I want to hear the story." I heard a hint of my old commanding voice in her sweet one, and it brought a pang to my stomach as I remembered how I used to be. Before true love. Before Ginny.

Wish that I could see you again

I know that I can't

I tossed some floo powder into the fire and, tucking my head safely inside, I called, "Harry Potter!" I winced as the world spun, but a moment later I found myself face-to-face with The Boy- or rather, Man Who Lived. We were twenty-nine, after all.

"Malf- Draco?" he demanded. Then, he seemed to remember Ginny, and out of respect for her memory, his voice and expression softened. "What's wrong?"

"Could you come by, please?" I asked him. It was strange, I thought, how my voice was now soft and tentative, when it used to be so commanding.

"Yeah," Harry replied. We had been - well, not exactly friends, but civil to each other back after Angel was born. Before Ginny died. Maybe he pitied Angel for having no mother, like himself, but he still had never kept in touch with me after Ginny was murdered. I had been in no state to talk to anyone after that.

A crack sounded, and Harry appeared. I jerked my head out of the fire and didn't bother to pat down my knotty hair. After Ginny died, I hadn't really bothered with my hair anymore, and the gray in my eyes had faded to a very washed-away sort of black - colorless, only a shade of a darkish white.

"You wanted something?" His eyes fell upon Angel, and he walked over to her. "Are you - "

"Yes, she is. Angel Devil Malfoy." He scowled at the middle name. I brushed back her scarlet bangs and covered her forehead with my hand. "First of all, I decided it was time you saw this." I removed my hand and revealed the blood-red lightning-bolt scar. Harry gasped, and his hand flew up to his own scar. "It's smaller than yours, but that's because the curse was wielded by someone far less powerful than - " I gulped down the words 'The Dark Lord' - "You-Know-Who."

"Wow. And - "

"She wants to hear your story. I thought it would be best coming from you, if you don't mind."

"My story? My story couldn't make it into a book, Angel. Yours - your story is full of tragedy and romance and action..."

"It's not something to be proud of," I told him flatly. "Ginny died. That's a bad thing, Potter."

"I didn't say - " he began hastily. "No, that's not it at all. I just meant - she does know her story, right?" I nodded. "Well, hers is far more interesting than mine. It's tragic, though, as is mine. Mine is long, but hers will continue forever. No matter what happens in her life, the story could go on and on. And the reader would love it. Nobody ever stops to think what the book characters feel. Angel knows it the most. She's been through everything. I've been through everything. The Weasleys - "

"Nicole, Cassandra, and Jennifer?" Angel questioned.

"No, their parents. Nicole and Cassandra's parents, Fred and Angelina, and Jennifer's parents, Ron and Hannah. Penelope, Percy's wife, is pregnant with a baby girl. Bill's married to Fleur Delacour, and they have a baby already. Her name is Désoleé." She must have been born right after Ginny died, I thought, for Désoleé means sorry. What other reason would Bill have for naming a child that than his sister's death? "George is just getting engaged to Katie Bell. Charlie and Tonks have a son - eight years old. Hiding from the truth, Draco, made you miss a lot. It was hard for all of us, but life goes on-"

"No it doesn't!" I shouted, my voice angry and defiant, sounding like a stubborn child. "Not without Ginny!"

"Draco," Harry sighed, "you survived without her for all but four years of your twenty-nine-year life."

"The only years I'll never forget," I told him.

"Don't forget." Harry's voice was determined, self-assured, and strong. It seems the last tragic nine years had built up a hard-core side to him that was unfamiliar to me. "Don't forget her. Nobody will. We've been through hell, especially Ron. He was so protective of her - said it was all your fault."

"All my fault," I echoed. "It is all my fault. I shouldn't have brought her to Belgium, I should have stayed hidden. And he only killed her because I wouldn't tell him where you were."

Harry had obviously not known this. "Oh, Draco..." he sighed. "Oh, I really didn't know that. No, Draco, it's not your fault that you didn't know where I was."

"But I wouldn't have told him anyway!"

"You would have if it would save Ginny!" he roared.

And that was just the start of it. The conversation I had been avoiding for almost nine years. Halloween would make it exactly nine years. And it was odd, that Harry's mother and Angel's mother shared the same birthday.

"Harry," I whispered, remembering a certain thing he had told me once, "there is a prophecy about Angel."

Harry looked at me, wide-eyed, and slapped his face with his hands. "Oh no," he muttered. "Not another one."

"Prophecy?" questioned sharp-eared Angel. Harry carefully sat on the corner of her bed and took a deep breath.

"I don't like telling my story," he admitted, "but you're special. You really are, Angel, and I don't think even you know just how special you are. I know, I know what it feels like not to know my mother. And you - your first day at school, you'll be able to see the thestrals drawing the carriages." He sighed into his hands. "I know tragedy, believe me. I loved your mother. We all did, in a way," he confessed, "but your father loved her the most, and for some reason she loved him back." He shot me a half-hearted smile.

"When I was one year old, on Halloween, Voldemort came to my parents' house and tried to kill me. My father, James Potter, tried to hold him off. Voldemort killed him. My mother tried to protect me, and Voldemort killed her. He tried to kill me, and for some reason, when he tried the Avada Kedavra curse on me, it rebouded, leaving a lightning scar on my forehead as it shot him into half-existance for the next ten years."

I watched Angel's delicate hand reach up to touch the scar on her forehead. "My first year at Hogwarts," he continued, "Voldemort, who was possessing my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, tried to steal the Sorcerer's Stone, or Elixir of Life. I stopped him. Second year, your mother was a main part in his plot. Your grandfather - "

"Mr. Potter, sir, I know this part. It's all right."

He looked relieved that he didn't have to tell Angel about what was obviously heart-breaking for him. "Well, my fourth year was important. I suppose you know about the Triwizard Tournament?" She nodded. "Well, someone put my name in the Goblet of Fire. I was forced to participate in three dangerous tasks set for people three years older than me, and just got out of the first two alive. In the third one, the other Hogwarts champion and I touched the Cup at the same time. We were Portkeyed to a graveyard, where Voldemort murdered Cedric and tried to duel me. I escaped with the Portkey and Cedric's body. At school I discovered that Bartemius Crouch Jr. was disguised as Mad-Eye Moody, and he was the Death Eater at Hogwarts. He died - Dementor's Kiss."

I looked up at him. "Do you want me to - " I began, ready to tell the story of his fifth year for him. I knew it was just as heart-breaking for him as Ginny's Story was. He shook his head.

"Fifth year, I began having dreams about what Voldemort was doing. I saved Arthur Weasley from a giant snake that I had seen in one of these dreams. My pure evil DADA teacher - " he glanced at me, as I had been a member of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad - "caught me in her fireplace, trying to see if one of my dreams was true. I had seen my godfather, the only person I really loved, being tortured by Voldemort. She threatened me with the Cruciatus Curse, so the girl who is now my wife and I led her into the forest where we claimed a 'weapon' was being held. Your father knows all this because he was one of her staunch followers." He glanced at me again. "So we escaped on thestrals - Luna Lovegood, Ron Weasley, your mother, Hermione Granger - my wife - and Neville Longbottom. We went to the Department of Mysteries, the place where I had seen my godfather, and attempted to save him." He drew a breath.

Suddenly, two women apparated into the room - Hermione and Samantha Potter. Harry croaked, "Hermione, Sam..." He indicated to Angel and me. "Draco's daughter wants to hear my story. I'm right up to the Department of Mysteries..." Suddenly he broke into tears, and girl I knew almost solely as 'Mudblood' continued the story.

"Your grandfather, Angel, was there with a few of his co-workers. He tried to kill us all, so many times, and his Master was there too. Bellatrix Lestrange, your aunt, murdered Harry's godfather just as a rescue crew came, fought off the Death Eaters, and brought us all back to school." Harry stopped crying and continued the story.

"In my sixth year, nothing all that exciting happened, nor in my seventh year. After I graduated, your father got engaged to your mother." Hermione looked at the ground as Harry said, "I was devestated. I loved her. And I thought - I thought your father was just like his father. Evil, Voldemort-worshipping, you know. I tried to save her from him, but it only brought them closer together. Ginny became pregnant with you. You know what happened next, Angel. When you were three, you know. And then... when you were five, I defeated Voldemort. I don't really want to go into that story." We respected his opinions and didn't say anything.

Hermione looked my daughter up and down. "You look like her," she declared, and felt Angel's hair. "It's soft, just like Ginny's. I had to brush all the knots out of hers so many times in the dorm - which she never hesitated to come into, by the way - while she talked about Harry, about Draco, about Ron. If you ever need a good hair-brushing, or just someone to talk to, come to the Arithmancy classroom. Harry here is an Auror, but there's something you should know. We are your godparents. If you ever need someone, please come to us, and you must keep in touch with both Harry and your father. This is very important, Angel. Stick with Sam - you should become good friends. A Malfoy and a Potter - who would have thought? And the Weasleys aren't bad either. Maybe you'll like Quidditch, or wizard chess, or studying." That reminded me of a certain trio I had once known, and I said so.

Harry laughed hollowly and then closed his eyes for a second. A moment later, Ron, Hannah, and Jennifer Weasley apparated into the room. "Draco? Hermione? Harry? Sam?" Ron asked, his eyes spinning around the room. Then his eyes fell upon my daughter, and I'm not sure what did it for him. The six freckles sprinkled on her nose, the vivid red hair, the slender figure, or the odd icy silver-blue eyes that so obviously resembled my own.

"You're..." he began, wide-eyed, and walked over to Angel. "Angel Weas-- Malfoy?" She nodded and brushed back her bangs, showing him the scar. "From where your grandfather - ?"

"Yeah," I told him. "I know he's evil. Weasley, I'm not evil. I'm not fucking like him. He killed the only person I ever loved, okay? I detest him. Don't even think of us as family. You, Weasley, are my brother-in-law. We have to get along. That doesn't work if you think I'm evil. Look at this child. She is perfect, flawless in every damned way. I raised her from the time she was three, I raised her knowing that she'd never get to see her mother."

Oh, Ginny...

Wish that I could see you again

Know that I can't

"Well," Harry began, "In-laws don't always get along. In fact they're notorious for not getting along. Hermione isn't exactly fond of her cousin-in-law, now are you 'Mione?"

"Don't call me that," she replied automatically.

I sighed. Some things would never change.

"Daddy?" Angel asked, tugging on my sleeve. "What's going on?"

Hermione, Ron, Harry and I laughed. It was so nice to see that not everyone had been through the horrors that I had. And for my baby girl, that was absolutely perfect. Well, no, not perfect. She had been through enough. But still...

"Do you all want to stay here until the girls leave for school?" I offered.

Harry glanced at Hermione, and Ron at Hannah.

Finally, Jennifer spoke, startling everyone. "I'd like that, Daddy." Ron looked at her strangely.

"Would you, now?" he asked. "That's settled, then. Just - no green or silver in my bedroom, please, Malfoy." I laughed softly and led them each to their bedrooms.

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Angel's Diary

Dear Diary,

Angels are supposed to be calm, right? Calm, and easily satisfied, and friendly, and... perfect. And the devil is supposed to be cunning, and sly, and, well, perfect, in his own way. Weasleys are supposed to be generous, and loving, and kind. Malfoys are stuck-up, evil, sly and talented. So what am I? What am I doing here, daughter of shy and quiet (or so Daddy tells me) Ginny Weasley and then again, popular and sly Draco Malfoy. And my name, what a contradiction that is. Angel Devil - what's that supposed to mean? Is it supposed to stand for their split personalities?

I think my name suits me, though. I want to be Daddy's angel, but is that what he really wants? Maybe that's what he wants now, because he fell in love with an angel, but does that really mean anything? I am a Malfoy, and I am most likely going to be in Slytherin. But after hearing what I've heard, and reading Daddy's journal, I'm confused. All I know is that I want to be whatever Daddy wants me to be, and if that is an angel or if that is a devil, so be it.

-Angel Devil Weasley-Malfoy

Harry's Diary

Journal -

It's odd, meeting up with Malfoy after all these years. I believe it was nine years, come to think of it. I didn't want to see him again after what happened to Ginny. But it got Voldemort off my trail - he suspected that if she didn't know where I was, I must be dead. How wrong he was.

I think I sort-of know what Angel feels, being without a mother. Remember, journal, that I never had a parents either. Mrs. Weasley was my mother figure, and Sirius my father figure. Sirius, of course, is dead, and Mrs. Weasley is taking care of her grandchildren too much to bother with me.

Samantha and Hermione are everything to me. They're the reason I wake up in the morning, and, quite frankly, Hermione's pretty much the reason I go to sleep at night. They mean the world to me, and I would never want to be in Draco's position - condemned to raise a daughter without a mother, particularly one that I loved and wanted to be with for the rest of my life. It feels horrible to know that my mother died because she was shielding me from harm.

I know what Angel feels, and I want to help her ease the pain. Not only the physical pain of having a lightning-bolt scar on her head, but the emotional pain of having no mother. Although I'm certain that Draco is and has been a terrific father, I know what she's going through and I want to help her. Even if it kills me.

-Harry James Potter

Draco's Diary

Dear Journal,

Here I am, sitting in my bed, all alone for what adds up about the three thousandth time since Father Lucius Malfoy murdered Ginny. Tonight has to be the most eventful night since she died. I never really thought about telling Angel everything, but tonight I did and once I started, it wasn't all that difficult to continue. I saw horror, misery, and love in my daughter's eyes at the respectable times in my story, and easily pictured those same expressions on Ginny's face.

Now Potter Harry will want to share Angel with me; he'll want to help me raise her all because he loved Ginny too. Well, so what if the hero is always supposed to get the girl? I'm as much a hero as he is, the stupid prat. I rescued my daughter, for crying out loud! And he's happy with Hermione. He doesn't want Ginny anymore. To him, she's dead, and that's it. But you know what? She's not dead. Well, she's dead, but I'm never going to forget her. She chose the perfect name for my daughter, because that just assures me that Angel, if not I, will see Ginny again.

And although that's supposed to comfort me, it only makes me feel worse.

-Draco Lucius Malfoy

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Draco POV

I turned on the radio, a muggle device Ginny had always insisted upon keeping, and heard:

I miss you

Miss you so bad

I don't forget you

Oh, it's so sad

I hope you can hear me

I remember it clearly

The day you slipped away

Was the day I found it won't be the same

I didn't get around to kiss you

Goodbye on the hand

I wish that I could see you again

I know that I can't

I hope you can hear me

I remember it clearly

The day you slipped away

Was the day I found it won't be the same

I've had my wake up

Won't you wake up

I keep asking why

I can't take it

It wasn't fake

It happened

You passed by

Now you're gone

Now you're gone

There you go

There you go

Somewhere I can't bring you back

Now you're gone

Now you're gone

There you go

There you go

Somewhere you're not coming back

The day you slipped away

Was the day I found it won't be the same

The day you slipped away

Was the day I found it won't be the same

I miss you...

The words hit me hard in the chest, and I stumbled backwards as the radio announcer declared "That was 'Slipped Away' by Canadian singer Avril Lavigne. Next up..." I switched it off, thinking over the words in the song I had just heard.

I remembered a certain line in the song as I climbed back into bed.

I wish that I could see you again

I know that I can't

Oh, Ginny, I thought, I miss you.