The New Year

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ginny stared into the mirror, her fingers clutching her lipstick. She had grown up to be prettier than she could have imagined herself to ever be four years ago. The flaming red hair that had been her shame had become something to be proud of, what she had once thought of as ordinary brown eyes had been described as 'liquid golden light' by the Daily Prophet, and the childish features she had always hated had become stronger though still delicate.

She had never believed him when he had told her that she was beautiful. After his exile, the very man who had sent him away had told her exactly the same thing.

With a sigh, she capped her lipstick and put it back into her purse. There was no need to renew any of her make-up, she had just needed to get away from Harry.

She tried to smile at the mirror, and failed miserably. She had not expected to see Draco again. She had tried to forget him but she never really had, always dreaming of hurt grey eyes that watched as Ginny sat in at the trial, not meeting his gaze as Ron testified to Draco's involvement with the Death Eaters. As Colin Creevey grimly stated that Draco had watched while his father had killed Dennis Creevey. As Justin Finch-Fletchley recounted how Draco had threatened Seamus Finnegan quite vividly about a week before Seamus had been killed under mysterious circumstances. She watched as the evidence mounted up on both sides of the scales and all that hung between him and the Dementor's Kiss was Draco's desertion only a few days after the Death Eaters attacked the Weasleys. Had she testified that she had told him where to find her, he would have been destroyed.

When the verdict of 'Not Guilty' finally came out, Harry had come up to him with hard eyes and had said vehemently, "I don't want to see your fucking face in England again, Malfoy." The few who heard him had been shocked-- Harry hardly ever cursed.

Draco had looked back steadily, and had said, "Whatever Potter says is law, isn't it? Right. Exile it is."

Harry had turned red, then stalked away. Ginny had been about to follow after him, but instead she hugged herself and waited for witches and wizards to trickle by while she refused to meet Draco's eyes. Then, finally she had managed to say, "You're innocent. You have to be."

"You don't believe me, do you?" he had asked incredulously.

"Of course I believe you," she had said miserably. "Good-bye, Draco." Then she had fled, once again running away from things that she could not face.

The four years since then she had worked at several jobs. Her first job was as an emergency room mediwitch at St. Mungo's. The family had been worried about her, but Ginny had tackled it with a ferocity that was meant for her to forget all about Draco, all about the war.

Of course, after Father had become Minister, publicity had become too great for her to stay at the emergency room. But neither did she want to become a real practicing mediwitch. She tried being a teacher a wizarding daycare. The children were sweet, but her heart wasn't into it. She tried writing for the Prophet. The decaying ethics of journalism disgusted her. She tried going through Auror training, but within an hour of submitting her application she had rushed back to the Ministry building and had begged for it to be incinerated. Ginny just couldn't stomach the idea of going through the same things as she had gone through during the war. In the end, she entered the world of fashion design, unhappily drafting design after design, trying to forget her guilt and uncertainty.

The Daily Prophet's fashion editor had remarked that Ginny Weasley's work was dark, gothic, and disturbing. An angry reader had written a letter stating that it was a post-war effect, and the fashion editor could go stuff herself. More sympathetic (and frankly pretentious) letters followed, saying that wizarding culture had been too long immersed into false cheeriness, and it was time to express their grief and anger for what had happened. Not only did the fashion editor get sacked, but a trend for the dark had been started and showed no sign of ending. Not that it meant she was in significantly richer or more popular than she was before. She had quit afterwards, unable to take it anymore. She had tried to get away from grief through her design, but well-meaning people had always been the ones to hurt her the most. God, would she never get away?

And now Draco Malfoy had finally come back from his sojourn on the Continent.

"Are you alright?" asked a kindly voice.

Ginny hurriedly blinked away the tears that were welling up. "Yes. Just fine." Then she gasped as she saw who it was. "Cho Chang!"

The young woman smiled brilliantly. Though a trace of her beauty remained, her face was haggard and weary. She was dressed in light blue dress robes, looking almost drab. This was not the Cho Chang that Ginny remembered. "I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

"We went to school together," she said. "I'm Ginny Weasley."

"Ah," said Cho, unruffled by the fact that she was speaking to the Minister of Magic's daughter and that she had failed to recognize her on sight. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying," said Ginny, hearing the sob in her voice.

"What is it?" she repeated, no change in her voice.

Ginny paused, then sighed. "Just the past. Coming around again to haunt me."

Cho tilted her head to one side. "You English don't know how to resolve debts. In China, they must be paid before the New Year."

"Or what?" asked Ginny bitterly. "Horrible little goblins will steal your slippers?" She was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry... I'm just upset... and..." she sighed again. "You've changed."

"My family was killed. My uncle defected to Voldemort. I was under suspicion for a while because my idiot brother helped my uncle out. Cedric was not the last loss I suffered because of the Dark Lord."

"Oh," said Ginny. "I'm sorry."

Then Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown burst into the powder room, in identically cut risque silk brocade dresses. Low neck, high hem, thin straps. Lavender in periwinkle blue, Parvati in raging scarlet.

"Ginny Weasley! I haven't seen you for years!" Lavender shrieked.

"You look great," said Ginny weakly as Cho slipped away, unnoticed by the twin cyclone of cheeriness.

"You don't," Parvati retorted. "You should be having fun."

"Oh I am," said Ginny with a brave smile. "Just wallowing in my rotten luck."

"Rotten luck? You were one of the top designers in the wizarding U.K. until you were stupid enough to resign! You designed this dress!" Lavender motioned toward the fabulous and identical dresses the two were wearing.

Ginny peered at it. "Did I? I don't think so..." Then she remembered. "Ohshit."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Parvati insisted. "It's amazing. I love it."

Ginny smiled weakly. She had designed that dress on the back of a flyer advertising some Muggle cafe. It had been a drawing of Ron in drag. How on earth had it become the dress that the two girls were wearing now?

"Listen," Ginny stammered. "It's been nice seeing you again, but I've got to go and all..."

As she made her way back to the main chamber, she was intercepted by a herd of reporters. "Miss Weasley, how do you feel now that Draco Malfoy is back in England?" "Could you just stand right there? We want a shot of you for the Prophet." "Smile, Ginny!" "Miss Weasley, what do you believe your career will be in, now that you've resigned?" "Miss Weasley, what are your feelings on the man who betrayed your family?"

"He did not betray my family," she said loudly. "The verdict was 'Not Guilty.' The whole wizarding world knows that."

"Then why did he disappear for four years?" the reporter pressed. "And why is he back now?"

"Probably needed to do his hair again. Nothing like good old English bleach," said Ginny irritably, though she was on the verge of hysteria.

Then Harry came in. The reporters immediately leapt at his throat like a pack of hyenas. Harry deftly pushed his way through them to Ginny. He put his arm around her. "The past is over," he declared. Reporters scribbled his words down furiously. "And no Death Eater will harm my Ginny." A noise like a blissful, romantic sigh rippled among the press. They could be so horrid sometimes, and yet they were the silliest people Ginny knew.

"Harry," said Ginny quietly.

"You don't need to thank me," he began.

"Harry. We need to talk."

She drew him toward an adjoining room. As the herd of reporters moved with them, she gave them a scathing look that got photographed almost immediately. But her expression worked, surprisingly, and none of them crowded up against the keyhole when she shut the door. She and Harry were alone.

"Look," said Ginny desperately. "There are a few things I want to think over."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... it's... I mean... us."

Harry looked blank. "What about us? It's perfect, Ginny." Then his eyes narrowed. "Is this about Malfoy?"

"Well. Um. Er. Agh. Well. Yes."

"I see," said Harry. "The past is over, Ginny. I already told you that. You can't possibly think that you can love that brute after what he did-- you can't possibly think he's innocent!"

"But I do, Harry," she said miserably. "I do think he's innocent..."

"But you don't love him."

"Of course not," she said hastily. "But still... I... I..."

"You what?" asked Harry gently. "What is it you want to say?" Ginny could feel the world twisting around her as she said the words that she could not possibly mean. "I can't be your fiancee."