Love Unwanted

So, one month in I realized that I liked Ginny, if not romantically, at least as a person. I wouldn't actually admit it to myself, but I did. She was like no one I'd ever known, smart, sarcastic, but still shy in a way. It was an oddly compelling mix.

After that first talk about Harry I realized she was much darker than her exterior led you to believe. She had secrets, ones she wasn't easily willing to share. Once I learned them I realized why.

She had talked about losing her virginity to Harry in a way that I could tell it pained her, and in the naïve part of my brain I told myself that was the only affair. She hadn't mentioned anyone else, but I had heard rumors. I never really believed most of them though. They'd been circulating since her first year. When people found out about what had happened to her, with Voldemort, and the diary, they assumed it was her. They thought she was weak, or that she was willing. They didn't understand that while Voldemort now was enough to terrify anyone, he was vey charming and persuasive back in the day.

To be honest I never really thought about what happened to her in the chamber of secrets. I knew it was my father's fault, and I now hated him for it. Then again, I hated him for many things; the scars on my back, the image I had. The death of my mother.

Ah yes, the death of my mother. Something I never told anyone about. Anyone until Ginny.

***

It was probably about four months in I told her about my mother. Our project was long since over, and our relationship had surpassed anything we'd thought it would become. I liked her; she was smart, and actually capable of holding a real conversation, so unlike any of the Slytherin girls I'd spent most of my time around. She wasn't vane, her short spiky hair made that obvious. She didn't try to play games with my head. And, I felt like I could trust her.

"Tell me about your family," she commanded one day while sitting on my bed, avoiding suspicious glances and angry stares of people who suspected. "Not what I know, that they're evil and think they're better than everyone. Tell me how you see them."

I honestly had no idea where to begin. How could I tell her what I felt? How I hated my father, loathed him, but still wanted so much to please him; to be the perfect son he wanted. I so often felt like a little boy trying so hard to earn daddy's approval that he didn't stop to think if what daddy wanted was right or wrong. That wasn't something I could easily bring myself to express, but still I tried.

"My family...it isn't a family. My father doesn't care about me, all he wants is for me to keep in with the right blood and not disappoint him. A little hypocritical, considering he spent almost a year in Azkaban, but I really can't tell him that. He hates me, hates me for knowing I'm better than him, that I'm above his petty ideals about blood and honor. The funny thing is, I've never told him how I really feel about all that, I always do what he wants. Still, I know he knows."

"What about your mother? She must care, at least a little."

Her words affected me. A lump rose to my throat, and I choked it down. My mother had cared. She'd cared enough to die for me, to tell my father I would not be a Death Eater, that I was better than that. She'd told him that, and then he'd killed her.

"My mother," I said slowly, doing my best to keep my voice from quivering, "is dead. My father killed her last June."

Ginny gave a sharp intake of breath. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea..."

Hot tears ran down my cheeks, all the pain I'd felt finally freeing itself. I tried to turn away from her, but she ran her finger over my face and gently pulled me to her. I felt so ashamed, crying there in front of her, but at the same time it was so...cleansing.

"Why?" she asked softly.

"She didn't want me to be a Death Eater. She said I was too good to waste my life serving a crazy man bent on destroying the people who gave him such a miserable childhood."

Ginny smoothed my hair gently. Everything was quiet, and then, "You're father is a disgusting piece of filth. Why do you try to make him proud?"

I gave a bitter laugh. "It's that or death, and I've never been one for delving into the unknown."

"He wouldn't really kill you."

"No?"

"You're his only child!"

I slowly lifted my head from her chest. "Not exactly."

She sat up straight. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Other than that he's probably fathered children illegitametly with one of his mistresses...it means I'm not an only child."

"You're not?"

"No." Then I told her something no one knew except me and my father, something that had always eaten away at me, something I wished I didn't know.

"I have a sister," Then, before Ginny could comment, I continued, "she's a year younger than me, and a squib. She couldn't do magic to save her life."

Ginny gasped. "Obviously, my sister being a squib didn't go over well. She lives in the manor, on the third floor. She's not allowed to leave, she has to stay up in her set of rooms, all by herself, like she isn't there."

"Why didn't your father just kill her?" Ginny asked. I too had asked myself that many a time.

"I suppose my mother didn't want him to."

"What's her name?"

"Evelyn Elizabeth Malfoy. I've only ever seen her once. The doors to her wing are locked, only the house elves are allowed up there."

"Don't you want to help her?" Ginny exclaimed, staring at me like I was being overly calm.

"Don't you think I've tried? The doors are locked, and the only key is in the possession of my father. I try to open the door, chances are I lose a hand. That's the way thing are in my family!" I was starting to get angry. She was voicing all the doubts I'd ever had, and when someone else asked the questions it was much harder to convince myself there was nothing I could do.

"I'm sorry," she said, and she actually sounded it, something which surprised me. I thought she'd think me a monster for having not done anything.

We lay on my bed in silence for a while, until slowly both of us drifted in to sleep, and somewhere late in the night found our way into each others arms.