- Rating:
- R
- House:
- Astronomy Tower
- Characters:
- Draco Malfoy Ginny Weasley
- Genres:
- Romance Drama
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Chamber of Secrets
- Stats:
-
Published: 04/20/2005Updated: 06/28/2005Words: 24,034Chapters: 6Hits: 2,668
He Never Said Goodbye
SlytherinPsyche
- Story Summary:
- She was the first person to see him as a human being instead of an object. He was the first person to make her forget how to face the loneliness of tomorrow. And then, it happens: he needs to run away and she falls apart. "Will you wait for me?" ... Even before she opened her mouth, she knew that there could be no other answer, but she couldn't understand why it made her feel so awful. "Of c-course I w-w-will. H-how c-could I n-n-not?" Ten years later, she falls apart again. In short, a D/G love story of very sad proportions.
Chapter 04
- Chapter Summary:
- What exactly has Draco been doing these past ten years he's been away? That's exactly the question that Ginny wants answered. Despite having wangled a little from him, Ginny still feels that Draco is hiding something concerning three very important elements of his past - what are they and why is he not elaborating? And what on earth does Harry Potter have to do with it?
- Posted:
- 06/04/2005
- Hits:
- 358
CHAPTER FOUR
"Potter? Harry Potter?"
Draco rolled his eyes theatrically. "There's only one as far as I know, unless he got himself some kids after the last time I saw him."
Ginny frowned. She couldn't imagine what Harry had to do with her question, but had a feeling that he was somehow involved. "Nobody has heard from Harry since he buggered off after seventh year," she said. "Why?"
"Well ..." Draco hesitated, chewing on his lip distractedly. "I saw him ... after I left Hogwarts." He smirked suddenly. "We actually managed to have civilised conversations without jumping on each other with intent to kill." The smirk began to fade. "I s'pose it's because of ... what I did towards the end of seventh year ... or, rather, what I didn't do ..." An ugly grimace, reminiscent of Ginny's earlier one, began to creep onto his face as his eyes darkened to pewter grey. "I'd never made a decision for myself in my entire life. Maybe that's why it hit me so hard when I made that one ..." He looked up at Ginny, who flinched at the look on his face, making him laugh harshly.
"I'll never be rid of him," he whispered, "he was a part of me ... he was my father ... no, he still is my father ..." Draco scowled ferociously at the floor, as though it had coughed up slime all over his shoes. "Potter should've destroyed him along with the Dark Lord ... stupid speccy git was always too compassionate for his own good ... couldn't even kill properly ..."
"That's how Harry always was," Ginny said softly. "When push came to shove he'd always prefer to leave the killing to others and content himself with knowing that justice had been done." She smiled, almost sadly. "Yeah, he was big on justice ..."
Draco nodded, still not looking at Ginny. "That's why I couldn't understand what had come over him when I was with him ..." he said slowly. "He was always very cordial ... almost nice, in fact." Draco scrunched up his face, as though highly revolted by something. "It was very disparaging and rather disgusting, actually. I even shook his hand!"
"So ... is this the big secret?" Ginny cocked her head to one side, a lopsided grin on her face. "Are you in love with The-Boy-Who-Can't-Kill-Properly-But-Forgives-His-Enemies, now?"
Draco didn't laugh; he shot Ginny a fleeting, almost fearful, look before concentrating on his shoes once more. "No, no, it's nothing like that ..." He suddenly noticed how white his knuckles had become due to the desperate way his hands gripped the arms of his seat and stuffed them into his pockets again, where they balled into vicious fists. "Why did you marry Finnigan?" he asked.
Ginny narrowed her eyes suspiciously at this abrupt change of subject, but decided to go along with it for the moment. She mimicked Draco's shrug. "I got tired of waiting for you."
Draco's eyes flew to hers and Ginny thought she could detect an apology in them, but the crack in his veneer was smoothed away almost as soon as she saw it. "You shouldn't have waited in the first place."
Ginny leaned into the sofa, suddenly feeling much older than her twenty-six years. "You asked me to, Draco, and I agreed. It was as good as a promise."
"Promises are meant to be broken," Draco muttered almost automatically.
"Well, I'm sorry if I don't follow the Slytherin mentality, but that's not what I was taught."
Draco's eyes suddenly sparkled mischievously. "You didn't always used to play by the rules. Remember, Ginny?"
How could I forget, thought Ginny dejectedly. She remembered everything: the stolen kisses, the fleeting touches, the illicit substances and midnight dance-parties. That used to be her world, but she'd distanced herself considerably from it in the past ten years. It all seemed part of a delicious dream that it would be prudent to forget ... but Ginny could not. She knew she never would.
Draco watched the play of emotions over her face and felt a surge of longing for the disconsolate redhead sitting in front of him, which he didn't seem to want to quieten. He flexed his fingers and leaned forward. "How about a night on the town? Just you and I, like old times."
Ginny closed her eyes momentarily, willing herself to stay calm and cursing her shaking voice as she said, "If you think that all this sap is going to make me want to fall into your arms again, you are sorely mistaken, Draco Malfoy. We're living in the future now. The past is gone. There is no 'you and I' - there never was - and I've forgotten the 'old times'."
She rose from the sofa and made to move past Draco, but he pulled her onto his lap and held her fast, his arms winding around her waist and shoulders. She felt so soft and warm and familiar in his arms that Draco almost melted. "Liar," he breathed. "I know you're still in love with me. We can live in the past as long as we're both alive."
And he leaned forward and captured Ginny's trembling lips with his own, and firecrackers exploded in Ginny's stomach. She knew she ought to fight against him, push him away and turn him out of her apartment, but her treacherous arms slowly encircled his neck and pressed her closer to him; suddenly she entertained absolutely no thoughts whatsoever about pulling away.
Draco tickled her lips with his tongue almost lazily, and eased them open with his own, sliding his tongue through, making Ginny shudder when it touched her own. Her skin was burning everywhere Draco had touched it and all she wanted now was to rip all of their clothes off and have his magical mouth and hands all over her body.
Too soon, he pulled away, leaving Ginny panting as though she'd just ran in a marathon. He leaned his forehead against hers. "Come out with me tonight," he whispered.
Ginny looked into his eyes and immediately jumped off his lap, moving away from him. "No, Draco," she said firmly. "I'm not doing this again. I've had enough."
"We don't have to go clubbing," Draco continued, as though he hadn't heard her reply. "I'll take you to the best restaurant in wizarding London. Which do you fancy? Mexada? Latium? L'Oiseau Rouge?"
Ginny frowned at him. "Where would you get the money? I thought Lucius disowned you ..."
"You don't really think that I would be as poor as your worthless brothers?" he drawled, idly examining his fingernails. "I made more money by myself in ten years than their team efforts will ever bring."
"Is that so? Well, I don't expect you made your little fortune through hard, honest labour," Ginny hissed through gritted teeth, "while my brothers continuously tear the skin off their backs to keep food on their tables."
Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't really care how I keep my food on my table, so long as it's there and of high quality. You Gryffindors will keep tearing yourselves apart until the bitter end, while Slytherin-minded individuals tear the skin off the back of someone else to keep themselves well-fed and watered."
"We're not at school anymore, Draco, houses don't - "
"Houses have always mattered," interrupted Draco, "and always will. Slytherin isn't just a Hogwarts house; it's a way of life. Same with all the rest of them. You are born ambitious, cunning and resourceful - you die ambitious, cunning and resourceful. Your opinions might change, as might your place in the world, but who you really are will stay the same forever."
"How introspective of you, Draco," commented Ginny drily. "I never knew you had so much scope for philosophy in you."
Draco shrugged again. "Life brings out the philosopher in everybody ..." He smirked unkindly. "Well, everybody who was a brain to philosophise with, that is." Noticing Ginny's immediate scowl, he quickly steered the conversation away from such dangerous waters. "So, where do you want me to take you? Or is my dirty, dishonest money not good enough for you?"
Ginny wanted to retort with something scathing, but, for some reason, she bit back her insults, considered her answer for a moment, and instead said, "Take me to The White Oleander," suddenly feeling as though she had sealed her doom.
To her surprise, Draco smirked. "Good choice," he said. "The maître d' knows me; we played poker together several years ago; I saved him from a gruesome death by decapitation."
Ginny raised her eyebrows. "I didn't know poker could be that dangerous."
"It is if you're playing with heavily armed Transylvanian Quidditch players."
"What were you doing hanging around with them?"
"Poker players make strange bedfellows."
Ginny grimaced. "Right. I don't think I want to know the rest." She glanced at her watch. "You can pick me up at eight o'clock."
"Or I could stay here and watch you change."
"Out!" Ginny stamped her foot and pointed at the door, glowering at Draco. "And don't you dare tell anyone that I'm going out with you tonight, or I'll flay you alive!"
"Ah, woman," sighed Draco mockingly, as he sauntered towards the door, "a more sweet-tempered and gentle creature than thee hast never trod upon the earth."
Ginny gave him one last glare before slamming the door behind him and leaning her forehead against it, eyes closed.
After ten years of absence, Draco Malfoy finally shows up on her doorstep, and she actually had the gall to try to turn him away. After dreaming of his arms around her, his lips on hers, his silky mocking voice whispering in her ear ... she tried to remember what it had felt like to be kissed and held by him again, but she shuddered instead, suddenly cold.
Shuffling into her draughty kitchen, she shut all the windows and made herself a steaming cup of peppermint tea, which she sipped at her scratched, second-hand dining table. What a day, she thought. First Seamus walks out, then Draco walks in ...
She didn't know whether she ought to be happy or not about Draco's sudden return. Somehow, she didn't feel quite elated. She couldn't even understand what it was that made her decide to go out with him tonight. She knew that it couldn't last, that he'd go away again and leave her alone, perhaps forever next time. She drank the last gulp of tea in one go and carelessly dropped it into the kitchen sink.
She floated to her bedroom and lowered herself onto one side of the bed. Her face slowly scrunched up and she began to rock backwards and forwards, arms wrapped around herself, as harsh sobs burst out of her mouth and bittersweet rivulets coursed down her face.
I don't care, she lied to herself, he will never hurt me again. But the tears continued to slide from her eyes and splatter her clothing - the act itself was a solemn testimony to her lie.
~ ~ ~
Draco
arrived at five minutes to eight o'clock to find Ginny waiting for him
and looking rather elegant and demure in a little black dress, white
cardigan
and ballerina flats, with her blazing hair pinned away from her
face. She noticed the appreciative look he cast over her
appearance, but personally thought that his grey silk shirt and black
tailored suit made her look like a ragamuffin from the street.
While her cardigan was beginning to have an off-white colour from the
years of washing and the black dress was actually eleven years old, his
apparel looked like it had been put together and polished until it
shone on him in the last couple of minutes before his arrival.
"I suppose this stuff is suitable," Ginny said, indicating her garments.
Draco flicked her a glance and replied curtly, "I've had worse in the past decade."
But before Ginny could benefit her curiosity with a question and answer about Draco's statement, he grasped her by the elbow and they both Apparated into the foyer of The White Oleander.
It was one of the oldest and most reputable wizarding restaurants in Great Britian; it was also one of the most beautiful. There were real oleader trees tucked away into random corners of the restaurant, their white flowers contrasting splendidly with the dark green of the leaves. Several fountains soothingly gushed water over smooth pebbles and mossy rocks, and tiny iridiscent fish darted around the ponds like minuscule arrows. Three enormous crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over the room, while the candles on each individual table illumated the rest.
There were many tables, all decked out in green tablecloths with splashes of brilliant white, candles with intertwined green and white wax and excellently polished silverware, but there was plenty of space for private conversations, as all the tables were far enough apart from each other for their occupants to retain a modicum of privacy.
A tall, thin man with a long face and thick nose approached them and, after bowing low to each of them, asked in a heavy French accent, "May I inquire as to whezzer you have a reservation?"
"Shame on you, Antoine!" Draco smirked almost jovially. "Not even recognising an old poker mate, and one who saved your unworthy neck, I might add."
Antoine returned Draco's smirk, his previously detached expression dissipating to be replaced by one of relief and gladness. "I sot zat I vould see you again some time," he said, "but I hoped it vould not be so soon. Vot are you doing here?"
"Hoping to get some dinner, if you don't mind. Oh, and to collect the gold you owe me from our last two poker games."
"Ah ..." Antoine rubbed his forehead, smiling vaguely. "Zat is vere ve run into some problems, Draco."
Draco's reply was to raise an eyebrow questioningly.
"Come and sit down first," Antoine said, anxiously gesturing to a table in a far corner of the room, next to a fountain. "A party of two, n'est-ce pas?" He gave Ginny an appraising look.
"Yes. This is Miss Weasley, Antoine."
Ginny gave the maître d' a curt nod and he bowed low again to her.
Antoine led them over to the table, pushed both Ginny and Draco's chairs in for them and snapped his fingers. Instantly, a handsome, bored-looking youth appeared, a quill and pad of parchment in his hands. "'Ow may I be of service to you?" he pronounced, with the same kind of accent as Antoine's.
"Marcel," Antoine addressed him sternly and, immediately, the youth's apathetic look vanished and he straightened up. "You vill take any and all orders from zese good people and you vill make sure zat zey receive everysing free of charge. Comprends-tu?"
Marcel jotted everything down, nodding briskly, obviously understanding that these must be very important clients of the maître d', and directed a politely curious gaze at Draco and Ginny when he had recorded everything. "Vot vill you be having, monsieur et mademoiselle?"
"Salmon fillets the way Antoine does them," said Draco promptly, smiling at the maître d'. "I've never been too keen on your oysters, Antoine, but your salmon, I must say, is not at all bad."
Antoine bowed low again, clearly understanding that, from Draco, this was extravagant praise.
"And for le mademoiselle?" Marcel was eyeing Ginny hopefully.
"She'll have the same," Draco answered without so much as looking at Ginny, who had acted like a deaf mute ever since they arrived at the restaurant.
"And ze beverages?"
"Zat vill be my job, Marcel," said Antoine, conjuring a bottle of white wine with his wand and pouring some into Ginny and Draco's glasses. Then he waited until the boy Disapparated to pull up a chair and peer around at them both good-naturedly. "It is ze finest vite vine ve have and ze oldest. You vill remember, Draco, zat ve - how do you say it? - lost our minds on zis very vine ven we last played poker ..."
"Actually, it was you who lost your mind and still owe me five thousand Galleons," Draco corrected in an annoyingly good-natured way.
Antoine suddenly lost his contented look and goggled at Draco, his eyes wide with horror. "Five souzand? Zat is a lot of money, Draco, are you sure?"
"Quite," said Draco brusquely. "As I always say, if it's worth gambling for, might as well double the worth. We started out with two thousand five hundred Galleons, if you remember ..."
"And if I remember correctly," Ginny interjected sharply, "we're supposed to be eating here, not discussing your history of profiting from other peoples' misfortunes."
Draco shook his head, smiling. "Not other peoples' misfortunes, my dear, but their weaknesses. If there's one useful thing my father taught me, it's to milk weak people for all their pitiful worth." He lifted his eyebrows superciliously at Antoine, who immediately got the hint and Disapparated to the kitchens, but not before bowing low once more.
"So ..." Ginny picked up her wine glass and swirled the wine around in it slowly. "When are you going to tell me about what you've been doing this past decade? I won't let you escape from it forever."
Draco dropped his eyes to the table, picked up his own glass and took a leisured sip. "Antoine's never wrong about wine," he said, as though he hadn't heard Ginny. "It's the one thing you can depend on him for ..."
Ginny set her glass down abruptly. "Draco ..." she said warningly.
Draco took another sip of the wine and continued to stare at the tablecloth blankly. Just when Ginny opened her mouth to speak again, he asked, "How long have you been married?" Although his voice was calm and controlled, Ginny detected an undertone of something she couldn't quite recognise ... agitation? Fear? Anger?
"Three months," she replied warily. "Why?"
Draco's upper lip curled. "You beat me."
Ginny gaped at him, her jaw residing somewhere near the edge of the tablecloth. "What?!"
Draco smirked unpleasantly at her shocked expression. "I don't see why you should be so surprised. After all, you married, too. And your marriage lasted longer than any of mine ... though that was primarily my own fault ..."
Ginny's jaw rolled into place as she processed this information. Frowning, she asked slowly, "What d'you mean, any of yours? You've been married more than once?"
"Thrice, actually," said Draco casually, as though remarking on the weather instead of matrimony. "Necessity called."
"Necessity?" repeated Ginny, thunderstruck. "What would you gain out of marrying for necessity? Your the heir to the Malfoy fortune! Everyone knows it would span the entire Asian continent if laid out Galleon by Galleon!"
"When people marry for necessity they don't always need money."
Ginny crossed her arms, scowling at him over the blazing candles. "All right, then. What did you need? I remember you mentioned Harry playing some kind of role in this sordid affair ..."
"Ah, and that's where you've hit the nail right on the head!" Draco looked sourly amused, as though he'd drunk a jug full of lemon juice after hearing a very funny joke. "It is quite a sordid affair, and Potter plays perhaps the most dirty position in it ... well, maybe after myself ..."
"What's he done? You haven't been telling him that he's to be the next Dark Lord, have you?"
Draco raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "I thought you were over The-Boy-Who-Has-A-Hero-Complex?"
"We became friends," Ginny snapped. "I suppose the term is difficult for you to understand, seeing how you never had any of your own, but do try to get your head around it."
"I did have friends." Draco's face was inscrutable. "Might still if they're alive. I've no idea what happened to anyone after I left ... we haven't been in touch ..."
"Who were they?"
Draco returned to staring studiously at the tablecloth. "Best people I've ever known," he said brusquely. "Foreigners, most of them ... some from Hogwarts, though ... Terry Boot, he was a Ravenclaw in our year ... Theodore Nott, a Slytherin, also in our year ... and, of course - " his mouth curled into an almost derisive smile " - our favourite hero, The Boy-Who-Lived himself."
"Harry was your friend? But you hated each other ever since your first year at Hogwarts!"
"People change, Ginny." Draco's eyes were pewter-grey now; hard, cold and entirely unfathomable. He was still glaring at the tablecloth, as though hoping to burn a hole into it. "He chose to make an enemy of me back then, but he must have realised that I'm a human being too after seventh year. He's become better since we finished our feud," he added thoughtfully. "More tolerant, understanding ... I would have never believed it could happen ... but he had his share of turmoil after seventh year, too ..."
"What happened?" Ginny asked in hushed tones.
Draco's eyes briefly flicked to Ginny's face and back down at the table again. "He got married, too, you see. Didn't last long, though - she was killed a month after. Mind you, he only married her for convenience; he knew he was putting her in danger, but he didn't stop to consider the consequences of his actions ... very Gryffindor of him ..." Draco shrugged, almost nervously.
"After her death, he - he lost a lot of that quality," Draco continued. "Thought more, about everything. Planned almost like a Slytherin, very methodical, very aware of the consequences of every little thing. Spent hours on end poring over plans, making sure that we could anticipate anything that could go wrong ... I helped him, of course," he added, a hint of a smirk blossoming on his pale face. "He wouldn't have got to that kind of a frame of mine otherwise ... he would've just wallowed in despair for the rest of his life, stewing in misery and guilt ..."
Ginny was rubbing her forehead with the back of her head, frowning. "I don't understand. What were you all doing together? Why did Harry get married? And why did his wife die?"
Draco sighed heavily. "I suppose I might as well tell you," he said unenthusiastically, "as you'll probably find out about it sooner or later, what with the Ministry ..."
"The Ministry? What has it got to do with anything?"
"That's where we delivered the goods."
Ginny's voice quivered as she echoed, "Delivered the goods?"
"Bodies, secret documents, Dark equipment ..."
"Bodies?" Ginny whispered, eyes widening fearfully.
Draco ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "We worked as undercover Hit Wizards, Ginny. We rounded up and eliminated as many of the Dark Lord's supporters as we could, and delivered them to the Ministry of Magic. Our Ministry of Magic, not the one in any other country. Not all the Ministers of Magic were happy about the Dark Lord's fall, you see."
Ginny's nails were digging into her cheeks, but she didn't care. "Why?" she breathed.
Draco swept a hand over his face distractedly. "To prevent them from rallying and bringing someone else to the throne. Or summoning Him back from the dead. I was the one of the few who had any idea of their plans, so I was a primary asset. Of course, I had to use underground channels to ascertain who I could use to leak information from within their circle to me ... you'd be surprised at how many people remain neutral to the whole thing and are willing to help either side, even at the same time, so long as they profit from it ... I had to work especially carefully ..."
"But why did you do it? What was in it for you?"
Draco shrugged. "I got to find out who I am," he said simply.
"And that would be ..." Ginny trailed off, raising her eyebrows at him.
"A wizard of many talents," Draco smirked.
"That's a bit of a cheap price to pay for such dangerous work."
Draco cocked his head to one side, frowning slightly. "It was what I set out to do. I just happened to commit a bit of murder and do some spying and burglary along the way." Draco's upper lip curled again. "All in the name of the law ... the best for wizardkind and Muggles alike ... that kind of rot ..."
A silence pervaded the space between them for a moment. Then - "What happened to your wives?" Ginny inquired in a would-be-nonchalant voice.
A slow smirk crept onto Draco's face. "Why do you care?"
"Am I not allowed to ask anymore?"
Draco opened his mouth to retort, but just then the young waiter Marcel approached their table pushing an elaborately wrought silver trolley on which lay their meals. He laid the dishes onto the table, poured more wine into the glasses, and, after bowing low, Disapparated.
Draco grinned at Ginny. "Let's eat!"
Ginny watched him tuck into his food voraciously, as though he hadn't eaten a good square meal in several years - which, she reminded herself, he probably hadn't - before starting on her own, occasionally sending him thoughtful glances as she mulled over all she had heard. She longed to ask Draco more questions, but resolved to do so after they had left the restaurant for wherever they went next to do ... well, whatever they intended to do after the meal ...
"I suppose this stuff is suitable," Ginny said, indicating her garments.
Draco flicked her a glance and replied curtly, "I've had worse in the past decade."
But before Ginny could benefit her curiosity with a question and answer about Draco's statement, he grasped her by the elbow and they both Apparated into the foyer of The White Oleander.
It was one of the oldest and most reputable wizarding restaurants in Great Britian; it was also one of the most beautiful. There were real oleader trees tucked away into random corners of the restaurant, their white flowers contrasting splendidly with the dark green of the leaves. Several fountains soothingly gushed water over smooth pebbles and mossy rocks, and tiny iridiscent fish darted around the ponds like minuscule arrows. Three enormous crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over the room, while the candles on each individual table illumated the rest.
There were many tables, all decked out in green tablecloths with splashes of brilliant white, candles with intertwined green and white wax and excellently polished silverware, but there was plenty of space for private conversations, as all the tables were far enough apart from each other for their occupants to retain a modicum of privacy.
A tall, thin man with a long face and thick nose approached them and, after bowing low to each of them, asked in a heavy French accent, "May I inquire as to whezzer you have a reservation?"
"Shame on you, Antoine!" Draco smirked almost jovially. "Not even recognising an old poker mate, and one who saved your unworthy neck, I might add."
Antoine returned Draco's smirk, his previously detached expression dissipating to be replaced by one of relief and gladness. "I sot zat I vould see you again some time," he said, "but I hoped it vould not be so soon. Vot are you doing here?"
"Hoping to get some dinner, if you don't mind. Oh, and to collect the gold you owe me from our last two poker games."
"Ah ..." Antoine rubbed his forehead, smiling vaguely. "Zat is vere ve run into some problems, Draco."
Draco's reply was to raise an eyebrow questioningly.
"Come and sit down first," Antoine said, anxiously gesturing to a table in a far corner of the room, next to a fountain. "A party of two, n'est-ce pas?" He gave Ginny an appraising look.
"Yes. This is Miss Weasley, Antoine."
Ginny gave the maître d' a curt nod and he bowed low again to her.
Antoine led them over to the table, pushed both Ginny and Draco's chairs in for them and snapped his fingers. Instantly, a handsome, bored-looking youth appeared, a quill and pad of parchment in his hands. "'Ow may I be of service to you?" he pronounced, with the same kind of accent as Antoine's.
"Marcel," Antoine addressed him sternly and, immediately, the youth's apathetic look vanished and he straightened up. "You vill take any and all orders from zese good people and you vill make sure zat zey receive everysing free of charge. Comprends-tu?"
Marcel jotted everything down, nodding briskly, obviously understanding that these must be very important clients of the maître d', and directed a politely curious gaze at Draco and Ginny when he had recorded everything. "Vot vill you be having, monsieur et mademoiselle?"
"Salmon fillets the way Antoine does them," said Draco promptly, smiling at the maître d'. "I've never been too keen on your oysters, Antoine, but your salmon, I must say, is not at all bad."
Antoine bowed low again, clearly understanding that, from Draco, this was extravagant praise.
"And for le mademoiselle?" Marcel was eyeing Ginny hopefully.
"She'll have the same," Draco answered without so much as looking at Ginny, who had acted like a deaf mute ever since they arrived at the restaurant.
"And ze beverages?"
"Zat vill be my job, Marcel," said Antoine, conjuring a bottle of white wine with his wand and pouring some into Ginny and Draco's glasses. Then he waited until the boy Disapparated to pull up a chair and peer around at them both good-naturedly. "It is ze finest vite vine ve have and ze oldest. You vill remember, Draco, zat ve - how do you say it? - lost our minds on zis very vine ven we last played poker ..."
"Actually, it was you who lost your mind and still owe me five thousand Galleons," Draco corrected in an annoyingly good-natured way.
Antoine suddenly lost his contented look and goggled at Draco, his eyes wide with horror. "Five souzand? Zat is a lot of money, Draco, are you sure?"
"Quite," said Draco brusquely. "As I always say, if it's worth gambling for, might as well double the worth. We started out with two thousand five hundred Galleons, if you remember ..."
"And if I remember correctly," Ginny interjected sharply, "we're supposed to be eating here, not discussing your history of profiting from other peoples' misfortunes."
Draco shook his head, smiling. "Not other peoples' misfortunes, my dear, but their weaknesses. If there's one useful thing my father taught me, it's to milk weak people for all their pitiful worth." He lifted his eyebrows superciliously at Antoine, who immediately got the hint and Disapparated to the kitchens, but not before bowing low once more.
"So ..." Ginny picked up her wine glass and swirled the wine around in it slowly. "When are you going to tell me about what you've been doing this past decade? I won't let you escape from it forever."
Draco dropped his eyes to the table, picked up his own glass and took a leisured sip. "Antoine's never wrong about wine," he said, as though he hadn't heard Ginny. "It's the one thing you can depend on him for ..."
Ginny set her glass down abruptly. "Draco ..." she said warningly.
Draco took another sip of the wine and continued to stare at the tablecloth blankly. Just when Ginny opened her mouth to speak again, he asked, "How long have you been married?" Although his voice was calm and controlled, Ginny detected an undertone of something she couldn't quite recognise ... agitation? Fear? Anger?
"Three months," she replied warily. "Why?"
Draco's upper lip curled. "You beat me."
Ginny gaped at him, her jaw residing somewhere near the edge of the tablecloth. "What?!"
Draco smirked unpleasantly at her shocked expression. "I don't see why you should be so surprised. After all, you married, too. And your marriage lasted longer than any of mine ... though that was primarily my own fault ..."
Ginny's jaw rolled into place as she processed this information. Frowning, she asked slowly, "What d'you mean, any of yours? You've been married more than once?"
"Thrice, actually," said Draco casually, as though remarking on the weather instead of matrimony. "Necessity called."
"Necessity?" repeated Ginny, thunderstruck. "What would you gain out of marrying for necessity? Your the heir to the Malfoy fortune! Everyone knows it would span the entire Asian continent if laid out Galleon by Galleon!"
"When people marry for necessity they don't always need money."
Ginny crossed her arms, scowling at him over the blazing candles. "All right, then. What did you need? I remember you mentioned Harry playing some kind of role in this sordid affair ..."
"Ah, and that's where you've hit the nail right on the head!" Draco looked sourly amused, as though he'd drunk a jug full of lemon juice after hearing a very funny joke. "It is quite a sordid affair, and Potter plays perhaps the most dirty position in it ... well, maybe after myself ..."
"What's he done? You haven't been telling him that he's to be the next Dark Lord, have you?"
Draco raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "I thought you were over The-Boy-Who-Has-A-Hero-Complex?"
"We became friends," Ginny snapped. "I suppose the term is difficult for you to understand, seeing how you never had any of your own, but do try to get your head around it."
"I did have friends." Draco's face was inscrutable. "Might still if they're alive. I've no idea what happened to anyone after I left ... we haven't been in touch ..."
"Who were they?"
Draco returned to staring studiously at the tablecloth. "Best people I've ever known," he said brusquely. "Foreigners, most of them ... some from Hogwarts, though ... Terry Boot, he was a Ravenclaw in our year ... Theodore Nott, a Slytherin, also in our year ... and, of course - " his mouth curled into an almost derisive smile " - our favourite hero, The Boy-Who-Lived himself."
"Harry was your friend? But you hated each other ever since your first year at Hogwarts!"
"People change, Ginny." Draco's eyes were pewter-grey now; hard, cold and entirely unfathomable. He was still glaring at the tablecloth, as though hoping to burn a hole into it. "He chose to make an enemy of me back then, but he must have realised that I'm a human being too after seventh year. He's become better since we finished our feud," he added thoughtfully. "More tolerant, understanding ... I would have never believed it could happen ... but he had his share of turmoil after seventh year, too ..."
"What happened?" Ginny asked in hushed tones.
Draco's eyes briefly flicked to Ginny's face and back down at the table again. "He got married, too, you see. Didn't last long, though - she was killed a month after. Mind you, he only married her for convenience; he knew he was putting her in danger, but he didn't stop to consider the consequences of his actions ... very Gryffindor of him ..." Draco shrugged, almost nervously.
"After her death, he - he lost a lot of that quality," Draco continued. "Thought more, about everything. Planned almost like a Slytherin, very methodical, very aware of the consequences of every little thing. Spent hours on end poring over plans, making sure that we could anticipate anything that could go wrong ... I helped him, of course," he added, a hint of a smirk blossoming on his pale face. "He wouldn't have got to that kind of a frame of mine otherwise ... he would've just wallowed in despair for the rest of his life, stewing in misery and guilt ..."
Ginny was rubbing her forehead with the back of her head, frowning. "I don't understand. What were you all doing together? Why did Harry get married? And why did his wife die?"
Draco sighed heavily. "I suppose I might as well tell you," he said unenthusiastically, "as you'll probably find out about it sooner or later, what with the Ministry ..."
"The Ministry? What has it got to do with anything?"
"That's where we delivered the goods."
Ginny's voice quivered as she echoed, "Delivered the goods?"
"Bodies, secret documents, Dark equipment ..."
"Bodies?" Ginny whispered, eyes widening fearfully.
Draco ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "We worked as undercover Hit Wizards, Ginny. We rounded up and eliminated as many of the Dark Lord's supporters as we could, and delivered them to the Ministry of Magic. Our Ministry of Magic, not the one in any other country. Not all the Ministers of Magic were happy about the Dark Lord's fall, you see."
Ginny's nails were digging into her cheeks, but she didn't care. "Why?" she breathed.
Draco swept a hand over his face distractedly. "To prevent them from rallying and bringing someone else to the throne. Or summoning Him back from the dead. I was the one of the few who had any idea of their plans, so I was a primary asset. Of course, I had to use underground channels to ascertain who I could use to leak information from within their circle to me ... you'd be surprised at how many people remain neutral to the whole thing and are willing to help either side, even at the same time, so long as they profit from it ... I had to work especially carefully ..."
"But why did you do it? What was in it for you?"
Draco shrugged. "I got to find out who I am," he said simply.
"And that would be ..." Ginny trailed off, raising her eyebrows at him.
"A wizard of many talents," Draco smirked.
"That's a bit of a cheap price to pay for such dangerous work."
Draco cocked his head to one side, frowning slightly. "It was what I set out to do. I just happened to commit a bit of murder and do some spying and burglary along the way." Draco's upper lip curled again. "All in the name of the law ... the best for wizardkind and Muggles alike ... that kind of rot ..."
A silence pervaded the space between them for a moment. Then - "What happened to your wives?" Ginny inquired in a would-be-nonchalant voice.
A slow smirk crept onto Draco's face. "Why do you care?"
"Am I not allowed to ask anymore?"
Draco opened his mouth to retort, but just then the young waiter Marcel approached their table pushing an elaborately wrought silver trolley on which lay their meals. He laid the dishes onto the table, poured more wine into the glasses, and, after bowing low, Disapparated.
Draco grinned at Ginny. "Let's eat!"
Ginny watched him tuck into his food voraciously, as though he hadn't eaten a good square meal in several years - which, she reminded herself, he probably hadn't - before starting on her own, occasionally sending him thoughtful glances as she mulled over all she had heard. She longed to ask Draco more questions, but resolved to do so after they had left the restaurant for wherever they went next to do ... well, whatever they intended to do after the meal ...
Author notes: This is the revised version of this chapter. You see, after having read the comments made earlier by reviewers about this chapter and re-read the chapter itself, I realised that I'd truly made the mistake of sending off the chapter without a second glance. So I extend a sincere apology to everyone who reviewed the unedited version for putting you through such agonising confusion. I shall try to make sure it never happens again. Hope you liked this (slightly different) version better! Grovelling and gratitude to all of you, including new readers.
PS: Chapter Five will be ready soon; I've finished the actual framework, just have to add some extra details here and there. Those of you who were wanting Ginny to have more backbone and wishing for something "hot and steamy" might be more pleased with it than with this chapter. Remember, patience is a virtue, my dear readers!