Ruminations

Ginny had fallen asleep on his shoulder, Arthur clutched firmly to her chest, her red hair snaking down Draco's chest, urging him to touch it. She breathed the heavy deep inhalation of someone asleep through pure exhaustion. Sensing it was safe; Draco took a tendril of fire and entwined it between his fingers marvelling at the vivid softness it possessed.

It was amazing that even through all the death and destruction there was still beauty in the world, there was still harmony, there was still peace. He stroked her hair, the mere action serving to calm him.

The birth had been trying indeed, and he hadn't even been having the baby. Gently he eased himself from beneath Ginny, propping her and the baby against the wall. He stood at the cramped window and watched the sun gingerly explore the forest, its rays working across the bare trees.

The baby stirred, whimpering against Ginny's chest. Draco studied it thoughtfully. A Christmas baby, born on Christmas day, through all odds here it was as peaceful and gentle as any tiny child.

Ginny's eyes slowly opened, heavily as though weighted down by sleep. She smiled down at the baby that nuzzled into her clothes.

"Thank you," she whispered, barely audible above the silence that he had only just noticed.

Draco gave a sharp nod, turning his profile to study the outside world again so he wouldn't have to deal with the inner turmoil.

He shouldn't have started talking, he shouldn't have opened the doors to their past that were meant to have been forgotten. And yet he had, and for the first time in years he felt something like peace work its way into his life, settling just above his heart. Hogwarts seemed like the experiences of a different person, a young boy named Draco Malfoy who didn't understand the world and couldn't be bothered to. Who was swayed by power and guided by lust. A boy who knew nothing more than what he could see and nothing less than what he needed.

At the same time though, it was a boy of dreams and hopes, anticipations and vision, he was told he could go far. They all had been. Some of them wanted to become Aurors and Apothecaries, teachers and secretaries. But all those ambitions had been shattered as the skulls of death rose into the air, one after the other, planting fear in innocent hearts.

Draco had been torn between his loyalties. His father had branded him as a deatheater from the first day he had screamed to his first steps. His mother had never had a say in the matter. But as he worked through school he became his own person. A person to be reckoned with. An ice-façade to rival his father's.

Slowly though he had drifted to the dark side, the lust for glory and power being all encompassing, all prevailing. Until one fateful day when he had come face to face with the infamous Harry Potter and his wife, Ginevra Weasley.

She had been happily married to Potter; they had a daughter, Holly. Holly was the embodiment of everything that could be strived for in the days of war, everything that people wished for, a young child to carry on the line of wizards, to soften the pain of losses.

But then one day Holly had been taken, from the light side to the dark side. Never to be seen again.

The youngest Weasley had been rent with sorrow then, her heart clenched with pain and suffering. Draco had watched it all, unable to help, unable to do anything. He had been a double agent in those days, following the footsteps of the late Severus Snape, doing anything would have exposed him. So he had to listen to Potter and the Weasley brothers beseeching him to return their niece and daughter, to find her and bring her back.

But he could not; he couldn't even find the whereabouts of the little girl. After that his position had been exposed and the hunt had begun. He was tracked every second of the day, he couldn't even sleep during the night, instead in quick snatches every few days or so.

Finally he had found solace in the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix, once again bringing him into contact with the now divorced Ginny and her loveliness.

Her and Potter had split, the pressure of their missing daughter tearing them apart bit by agonizing bit.

Day by day, Ginny said less and less, one family member after another was taken from her, and with each one Draco felt her life ebb through agony. He was sure one day she would just cease to exist, one day she would implode through loneliness and sorrow.

And in this time he learnt to love her. He loved her more than he had loved anything. More than himself, more than life, even more than power.

And seeds that were sown as deep as those of love are, cannot be unsown...