The New Year

Harry looked aghast. He didn't move, didn't say anything, just stared at her. Ginny felt her hands tremble slightly and her eyes stung, but she refused to cry now.

"I mean it, Harry," she said, "I want to break it off. I cannot do this."

At last he regained the skill of speaking, "WHAT do you mean, just like that? End of story? I tell you Gin, Malfoy-" and he spit out the mere name as if it disgusted him, "-is your past. It's over and I'm surprised he had the indignity to show up tonight. You can't just break of the engagement - we are going to get married for Crissake! We are so per-fect for each other-"

But here Ginny broke him off. She couldn't bear to hear more. "YES WE ARE! And that's the frigging problem! The world is no fairytale. This whole relationship is so hollow. So perfect. And I don't know why I have not realized this be-fore - but what is there really between us? No passion, no tenderness, no nothing. You are a gentleman and a great friend, but marriage? It - I can't explain it, it just feels totally wrong. 'The great Harry Potter and the Minister of Magic's daughter.' That's what we are. I just know that I cannot keep this going and tonight was the drop. We don't even understand each other, and there is certainly love between us, but it is the wrong kind of love. It's over Harry. Over, and there is fucking nothing you can do about it."

And with this she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, leaving the Boy Who Lived To Conquer Voldie And Freaking Did It looking like a goldfish that had been taken from the water and placed in the Sahara, and sending everybody who dared to come near her, be it a reporter or anybody else, a look that had them fleeing halfway into next week. She went to fetch her cloak and purse and without even telling anybody that she would head home, she walked out of the building and through the park to get past the Apparition barrier that always surrounded any kind of Ministry gathering. It was a cold night and it had started to snow. White, soft crystals fell gently on her hair and shoulder. She could no longer see any stars, but that didn't matter, she just had to get away. Away to anywhere. She really didn't feel like going home to her apartment right now, though, so she just kept walking even though she had gotten past the barrier. She couldn't believe that she had really done it. She had broken up with Harry, the boy she had had a crush on since she was ten. Well not up till now, but for a fair share of years. Now, bitter realization dawned on her. She had simply thought her first crush to be gone when Draco Malfoy had captured her heart halfway through her sixth year, but she knew it not to be true; her infatuation had been more like a hero-worship than an actual crush. She had been in love with the image of Harry Potter, the concept of a hero and world saviour rather than a person. And when she had told Harry that their relationship was too picturesque she had meant it. They never fought, never even disagreed. He was the perfect gentleman, always asking her out for dinners or trips to the theatre - romantic evenings as they were described in romance novels. He had accepted her wish to remain a virgin until her wedding night, had never pushed her, but always flattered, been sweet and obliging and noble.

She had never forgotten what it had been like with Draco. Dating him had been nothing like dating Harry.

Being with Draco had meant biting remarks and endless fights, yelling and crying and going against the will of the entire Hogwarts population, sleepless nights and bitter pain, and yet, whenever she had been on the breaking point he would slip his arms around her and kiss her, and the rest of the world would dissolve into grey, murky masses; distant, unimportant. It had been a difficult and complex relationship but also an appealing one. It had been exciting, being on dangerous territory, always having to expect something unpredictable. She remembered how her heart had fluttered the first time he had kissed her and when he had done so ever since, the way she had been utter tingles when he just looked at her. And oh that look. The memory of his eyes sent a fresh wave of dizziness through her. Draco had remained the tough guy of Hogwarts - he was not going soft, but she had never believed him to be evil in any way. Being sly, cunning and egotistical was in the Slytherin job-description and somehow she preferred his nature to the sweet Hufflepuffs. She had never liked most of his housemates, but there was something about Draco's pride and arrogance that differed from his fathers. There was an honesty and loyalty that Ginny had never doubted until the accusation of him, and still, it was beyond her imagination how he would ever lie to her.

Opposite Harry, who had countless times confessed his love to her, Draco had never told Ginny how he felt about her, and she had often wondered why he would want to spend his precious time with her, ickle Ginny, littlest of Weasleys. Or Virginia, he had liked to call her by her real name. But his eyes, otherwise so closed and guarded, had let her know that he loved her. Plainly, calmly, in a straightforward way, as if he didn't for a moment doubt, or hesitate to be honest.

With Harry it had been so different. It had felt neither right nor wrong. It was homely and familiar but not intoxicating or obliviating. Her heart never beat faster when Harry kissed her. She liked his kisses. His embrace was cosy and his words gentle. But it had always been like kissing your best friend. She had tried to suppress this idea, told herself that this was what she had always wanted and that it was meant to be. Until this very night she had been able to persuade herself to the belief. Until seeing Draco again.

A tear fell from her eye and made its way down her cheek. Seeing the man that had caused her so much grief caused fresh pain to well up inside her, and she had to bite her lip to prevent the sobs that threatened. She pulled her black winter cloak tighter around her and looked up to see where she was, having paid no attention to where her feet had carried her, and found that she had walked in a circle; she was still in the park, and very close to the mansion that held the party. It was somewhere in Somerset, but she couldn't quite recall the name of the place. The clouds had parted and it was no longer snowing, leaving the moon to transfer the grounds to sparkling diamond carpets. The view was breathtaking, and Ginny halted for a moment to take in her surroundings. The mansion was near some woods, and was that a unicorn she saw far away? They were so shy animals, that they were hardly ever seen, and yet, it was coming closer, hesitated, lifted its head and seemed to scent something in the air, and suddenly it turned around and galloped of, its long mane and tail billowing in the wind.

A hand on her shoulder, a voice cut through the silence, "Beautiful place, is it not?" Ginny tensed and whipped around. She searched his silver-grey eyes for any kind of insincerity but found none. "You shouldn't walk around alone at night. It can be dangerous, you know," he continued gently. Draco had never considered her a little girl, she knew. While her family and, frankly, the whole of Gryffindor, had seen her as something small and easily shattered, he had never thought her too fragile to handle the truth. He had gained her trust and given her his in turn and had let her deal with things on her own, only aiding her when she asked for it, but never ignoring and just taken her handling everything for granted. He had sometimes pressed her far to admit her own emotions, other times let her dwell on her memories and impressions, silently telling Ginny that he understood, but never pursuing the subject. He had also been fiercely protective of her and had harbored a tenderness that she previously wouldn't have believed possible.

"Virginia," he whispered and touched her cheek, wiping a fresh tear away. Her palms were sweaty, her head spinning, and she suspected, her hands trembling, but it didn't change the fact, that Draco was standing only inches away from her, looking at her with a gaze almost unreadable; pained, hoping, desiring, both present and distant. She sensed that he was hesitating for a moment, and then he lowered his head to brush his lips against hers.

Years of pain and grief and yearning, old passion and love, hit her full force with the kiss, and she felt herself unable to do anything but to respond to him as deeply as she had ever done. It was a gentle, tender kiss, but Ginny felt the desperateness with which the kiss was given. She knew that tears were rolling down her cheeks but she was unable to stop them. For how long they stood there like that, Ginny would never know. Only that a sudden, cold gust of wind was what made her regain control and back away from him. He didn't follow. She looked at him for a moment, and then turned around and ran as fast as she could. She was far beyond the Apparition barrier when she slowed down enough to apparate home to her apartment. Once she landed in her living room she broke down and sobbed into the long hours of the night on the couch, entangled in her blanket and tight-bodiced midnight blue dress, one of her own favorite creations.