The Ties That Bind

You can't cut something that was never there to begin with.

But Virginia Weasley was going to do just that. Damn the laws of physics, and damn reality.

Damn her heart.

***

"It's simply fascinating, really. Fascinating and incredible at the same time. As though there's this tie between us, this intangible, yet somehow wholly evident thing that just binds us together -"

"Binds you, you say?" Ginny sincerely hadn't meant to interrupt Hermione's rare bearing-of-the-soul, but she couldn't help it; something Hermione had said hit a discordant note, and Ginny just had to question it. Hermione blinked owlishly, her momentum momentarily cut off by the hereto passive listener that was little Ginny Weasley.

"Yes..."

"How so?" Ginny persisted. She felt terrible for prodding Hermione, really, she did, but she couldn't help it.

It was so damn pertinent.

Ginny sighed. When she and Hermione had begun to talk about relationships, more specifically, Hermione's year-long relationship with Harry, Hermione had been upset over one of his more risky endeavors: saving the world. Not exactly an issue in most ordinary relationships, but then again, Harry Potter was no ordinary boyfriend. And Hermione Granger wasn't your typical witch, for that matter.

Still, Hermione was not exactly comfortable bearing her soul, especially not to other witches, and Ginny knew this. Hermione was really more the "I'll write it in my journal and be done with it" type of girl. But with the winter holidays approaching, the older girl was getting more nervous by the minute, and somehow, though Ginny was a year younger and a thousand times less experienced, in both matters of relationships (or so Hermione thought) and world-saving (which was true), she seemed to understand.

Except for this part.

"It's hard to explain, Gin," Hermione said, leaning back in the armchair in which she was perched. She leaned her chestnut colored hair against the scarlet upholstery and stared into the fire, trying to put that indescribable something into words. But how could she? She looked at Ginny helplessly, and the younger girl seemed to take pity on her.

"You're in love with Harry, right?"

"Yes," Hermione answered quickly and confidently. At least she knew that much. Ginny paused for a moment at this and studied Hermione as the preoccupied genius stared into the fire. While Hermione was undoubtedly intelligent, she also possessed a beauty borne of inbred elegance and simplicity, with a peaches and cream complexion and a figure that would never go out of style.

Ginny looked down at herself then, knowing that she was more aesthetically pleasing, for sure, with vivid coloring to die for, what with the scarlet hair and pale skin that came with it. She had a row of freckles across her nose, freckles she was actually rather proud of, and hazel eyes that seemed to take on green or brown alternatively, depending on her clothing. She knew she looked just as old, if not older, than Hermione.

At times, however, she felt years older.

"Ginny, when you're in love -"

"It's as though everything in the world seems to draw you to him, isn't it?" Ginny interrupted quietly, not looking at Hermione, not really looking at anything, just absentmindedly twirling a lock of red hair, that, in the firelight, looked to be blood-colored, tinged with gold at the ends. Her chocolate eyes seemed far away at that moment, and Hermione could do nothing but nod.

"As though no experience is complete without him. As though everything that's inside of you reaches out at every minute of every day, trying desperately to feel what he's feeling, and succeeding sometimes. Other times, you fail so badly it hurts. And all you want is to be close to him. And that tie, it just never lets go, even when you test the boundaries, even when you care so much it actually scares you, even when you want it to break so badly that it seems as though a thousand secaros could never slice it neatly in half, that there will always be little strings hanging on. Is that how it is for you, Hermione?"

Ginny could tell she had stunned Hermione, and for this she felt truly bad. She knew Hermione thought of her as a younger sister, much younger, far too young for love. But she couldn't help it; when Hermione started to talk about ties... she just knew too much about ties. Far more than Hermione did.

Far more than Hermione ever would.

"You're-" Hermione seemed about to say something; what, Ginny wasn't sure, but she knew she didn't want to hear it. Be it questions, accusations, reassurances... she didn't care.

For Hermione could never understand.

Her tie went both ways.

"Forget it," Ginny said, smiling. "There's the writer in me, coming out, pretending to be masterful with words. Trying to understand something I couldn't possibly. I guess it's just one of those things you have to experience in order to comprehend, huh?"

Before Hermione could answer, Ginny hoisted herself out of the armchair, adjusted her muggle clothes, a knee-length brown suede skirt and a white oxford collared shirt. She jammed her feet into brown docs, and combed her fingers through tendrils of fiery curls. "Listen, sorry to run out on you, but I'm glad we had this talk. I have to meet Luna in the library. I'll see you later tonight. And don't worry ... he loves you more than life. It will be okay."

And before Hermione could even form a coherent thought, Ginny was gone, as though she had disapparated. But her quick departure wasn't the odd thing at all. Hermione whispered what she had been about to say, before Ginny had fled.

"You're absolutely right."

***

Ginny hadn't lied. She really was going to the library. She moved swiftly from Gryffindor Tower, descending into the main part of the castle, heading towards the massive library on the eastern side, facing the Quidditch pitch.

When she entered, she walked right past Madame Pince's desk; that much was entirely normal. However, as Ginny neared the area where one could veer off to the right into the main stacks and study rooms, as most did, or take a sharp left into the restricted section, which was a veritable suicide in terms of detention for those without passes, Ginny chose the latter.

She did not have a pass.

She had a charm, instead. Her rubber-soled shoes made no noise on the carpeted floor as she walked, close to the shadows, drawing from beneath her collar a silver necklace. At the end of this necklace there was a silver serpent, set with tiny emerald eyes, the entire thing no larger than her thumbnail.

But it was powerful, that was for sure. It managed to hoodwink the alert books into thinking that she was, at best, a professor, obviously cleared for free roaming within the hallowed stacks that held many of the most potently dangerous spells a witch or wizard could cast, much of the knowledge that could damn a wizard to hell for eternity.

She didn't so much as glance at these books. Instead, she strode on towards the very last row of shelves. She was late, she knew that, and had no time. She knew that he -

"Oh!"

Ginny's sharp intake of breath was muffled instantly as a hand, strong as a vice, reached out to spin her 5'9" body into the wall, instantly covered by a lean body a full four inches taller, her mouth taken furiously into the possession of one that seemed unbearably frigid and scorching hot all at once.

This mouth took control of her own instantly, seeking insistently and finding, plundering, yielding nothing and taking everything. Ginny gave it up willingly, her initial fear quelled as a familiar hand snaked up to cushion her head against the stone wall, the other circling her waist, pulling her flush against the muscular body that so overcame hers.

"You're late." The first words, when they finally came, seemingly ages later, were an accusation, spoken in the harsh whisper of a man out of breath, with passion or anger... or both.

"I know." Ginny didn't offer an excuse; she knew he didn't care much. She didn't offer an apology either, but he took it as such.

"I forgive you, Weasley."

"I didn't apologize, Malfoy," she shot back, just before he claimed her mouth again. She absorbed his chuckle into her mouth, gratified to have made him laugh. It was hard, as one might imagine, to amuse a wordsmith such as Draco Malfoy, a boy - man - who made it his business to amuse himself at others' expenses at every possible opportunity. A man with a tongue as cutting as a viper's... or as gentle as the first snowfall.

Depends on how you looked at it.

He pulled away again, and just looked at her. Ginny stared up into the enigmatically cold eyes, silver through and through. She wondered vaguely if even the warmest sunshine of midsummer's day could warm them. As she watched him watch her, one of her hands crept, seemingly of its own accord, to tangle into the similarly light hair, amazingly soft, and began to stroke gently.

No, she decided, the other hand grazing over his chiseled cheekbones, impossibly higher than her own, and his patrician nose. Nothing could warm this man up. He was frozen from the inside out, frozen as irreversibly as the snow caps that would never thaw. He made her cold when he touched her. That is, when he wasn't making her burn.

"Let's go."

With his whispered order, Ginny wrenched her eyes away from his, and allowed herself to be led by the hand behind the last stack, the one she had been originally heading for. With a muttered word, it slid open, and Ginny followed Draco into the poorly-lit labyrinthine passages that she knew like the back of her hand. She shivered once, she had forgotten a cloak this time, and with the onset of winter, the underground of the school was beginning to get colder and colder.

She didn't need to even draw another breath before his cloak, black in color of course, and of the highest quality, was cinched around her throat. About two inches too long, it brushed the tops of her shoes as their footsteps made clicking noises against the cold stone floor, their destination nearing.

"Wait." Ginny stopped him with a tug and knelt down at the foot of the first staircase they came to. She searched for a moment, her eyes sweeping intently across the base of the first step and up, until they finally lit upon what she had been searching for. She picked up the earring quickly and thrust it into her pocket. She stood and found herself face to face with Draco, who just stared at her impenetrably. "I lost an earring last time," she replied to his unanswered question.

"Why didn't you just ask me to get it?" he asked offhandedly standing aside and gesturing her ahead, as he always did when climbing a staircase, or entering a room.

"I didn't want to bother you," she replied, conscious of the hand at the small of her back, guiding her up the narrow twists. He didn't answer.

The staircase seemed to end in midair, on a platform just large enough for two people to stand comfortably. A third would have been a tight squeeze. But there had never been a third. There would never be a third.

Ginny waited patiently as Draco drew his wand and looked up at the dark ceiling. As he tapped it with his mahogany wand, it opened up not onto the first floor, no, certainly not, but into the dungeons of the castle. More specifically, the Slytherin dungeons.

More specifically than that? Draco's room.

As the door slammed behind them, extinguishing the last sliver of light, he turned to her.

And this time, when he touched her, she burned.

***

"Ginny? Are you listening to me?"

"Hmm?" Ginny flushed red as she spun to meet her brother's angry glare. "Oh Ron, I'm sorry, I was thinking about my potions exam."

"You were staring off into space," Ron accused, shooting a pleading glance at his best friends to back him up on this. Harry and Hermione were far too busy engaging themselves in staring moonily at each other across the table, however, and didn't offer their beleaguered friend any assistance with his errant younger sister.

"Yes, Ron, staring off into space, and thinking about my potions exam." Ginny frowned inwardly, thinking about where exactly in space she had been looking.

The Slytherin table, just across the Great Hall. She had been looking for Draco, naturally... he was usually supremely and annoyingly punctual, but he hadn't as of yet showed up. Ginny wasn't worried, exactly... more perturbed really. She checked her watch surreptitiously. Nearly eight thirty am, and he was nowhere in sight. She had potions soon (yes, she really did have an exam) and had wanted to catch a glimpse of him before heading off to class.

"Yes, well, it would be marvelous if you would listen to your elder brother, Virginia," Ron scolded pompously.

"What were you saying, Percy?" Ginny flashed him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, but he didn't notice. The horrified look that swept across his face was evident of this.

"Ginny! If you won't listen to me as your damn brother, then at least listen to me as your Quidditch Captain!"

"And bloody proud of it, aren't you?" Harry teased good-naturedly; he had gracefully stepped down from Quidditch, urging Ron to take over, claming he had far too much to occupy his time, what with a new girlfriend (Hermione, naturally) and the whole saving the world, defeating the Dark Lord thing.

Ron stuck his tongue out at his best friend, making Hermione snort over the top of the book she had promptly pulled out after breaking eye contact with Harry.

"Honestly..."

Ginny shook her head at how easy it was to distract her brother, and prepared to leave the hall; she did have a potions exam, after all, and she couldn't wait around all -

A flash of moonlit hair and diamond eyes stopped her midway, and her eyes widened as she took in the scene before her in one heartbroken glance.

It was Draco, of course. But he was hurrying in with a redhead at his side - Blaise Zabini, who was smiling aristocratically, adjusting her robes and patting her hair back into place. Ginny didn't miss Draco's possessive hand at the small of the other girl's back, nor did she fail to notice the lazy way Draco glanced at Blaise's long legs as she folded them skillfully.

The exact same way he had looked at Ginny just two nights before.

Not last night...

Virginia, I'm going to have to cancel on you tonight. Something came up.

Something? Or... someone.

At that moment, Ginny's worst fears were realized, and broadcast in front of her in blinding display. She didn't know what to do; she felt as though her blood had just turned to ice in her veins, as though every sound in the Great Hall had just been muted and all she could hear was the sound of her own heart beating, faster and faster.

"Ginny?? Where are you going?" Ginny still couldn't really feel anything, and she certainly didn't hear the annoyed voice of her brother, echoing throughout the hall. "Honestly, that girl needs to grow up!"

"Ron, be nice..."

Ginny didn't hear a word of this; feeling strangely detached; she watched herself stand up from the table and calmly head out of the hall, never once meeting his eyes, never once glancing again at the table embossed with the sign of the serpent.

But because Ginny was so preoccupied with watching herself, she failed to notice the way Draco stared at her retreating form, proud and tall, back straight as a lance, as she left the hall.

Potions?

No. Once Ginny stepped onto the staircase, she grabbed the rail, finally jolted into awareness. Shock, rage, denial, grief, disbelief swept through her in dizzying waves and she broke into a run, not stopping until she reached Myrtle's bathroom. Even then, she burst into it, and into the first stall she saw. She sank to her knees and vomited, once, twice, three times, until she had emptied herself of everything, including emotions.

Then she proceeded to rid her body of tears, sinking into a ball on the stone floor, sobbing in such a way that even Myrtle didn't dare go near the stall, empathetic to Ginny's plight, though the ghost knew not what it was. And as the minutes ticked by, still Ginny lay there, tears trickling out of her because they simply would not stop.

She didn't understand, she didn't want to understand, she wanted more than anything for it to not be true, knew in her heart and her mind that it was. She tried to rationalize it, tried to comprehend it, tried to throw out logic and listen to her heart, tried to forget her heart and listen to her mind. She came up with only one conclusion: he had never cared a whit about her.

Not the way she had cared about him.

He had no ties, not like the ones that seemed to wrap themselves around her heart, binding her to him in more ways imaginable.

She would have to do something.

Tonight.

***

"Ginny! Ginny! Are you okay?" Ginny stopped, midway through climbing out of the portrait hole, turning back to meet Hermione's worried gaze.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" Ginny seemed perfectly composed. More than composed, in fact. She looked positively gorgeous, in a purely aesthetic sense. In a cold way, actually. Her bright scarlet hair was pulled back at the sides with simple bobby pins, left to cascade in molten waves to the small of her back. She was wearing muggle clothing again, this time a pair of form fitting jeans and a button down bottle green shirt that really brought out the greenness in her hazel eyes.

"Well Colin told me you missed potions... and I know how worried you were about that exam, so I was concerned," Hermione finished, looking at her close friend with worry. Ginny felt a rush thankfulness for the older girl. If only she knew.

"I know. I felt sick, and I really just couldn't take it. But I am going to talk to Snape now, actually. I'll let you know how it goes. But thank you, Hermione," Ginny smiled at the chestnut haired brainiac who couldn't possibly comprehend missing an exam. Hermione smiled back hesitantly.

"Well, if you're sure... good luck with that..."

"Thanks. I need all the luck I can get."

And it was true, though not for the reasons Hermione believed. With every step towards the library, Ginny's heart seemed to beat more heavily in her chest, sinking slowly. She knew what she had to do, but she couldn't believe she was about to do it.

It had been so long. So long. It was January now of Ginny's sixth year; she had been spending three, four nights a week with Draco since November last. Over a year.

She knew he never really cared about her; but early on she had contented herself with being close to him. She had also suspected before that he had been with other girls. She had caught him making out with Susan Bones (who would have thought), and Padma Patil, and three or four others, but each time, he had somehow managed to make Ginny believe that they meant nothing. They, after all, were not gracing his bed, Draco assured her of that, and Ginny believed him. Considering just how often she was there, and his busy schedule, it only seemed plausible at the time.

At the time.

Later, however, Ginny had begun to have doubts. She had begun to notice the way the other girls, specifically those she had caught with him, looked at Draco during the daylight hours. They seemed so open about it. And for Ginny, who couldn't look at Draco in any way, for fear of her brother's wrath, doubt began to seep in.

They had had arguments about it, of course. Ginny had yelled and cried and raged. Draco never seemed to want to comfort her. He reminded her calmly that they had never agreed to be monogamous, that they weren't supposed to be serious, that they had only the nights together and if she wanted to spend them arguing then she might as well be arguing with her teddy bear and there was the door.

She had never once left, had never made it more than three steps towards the door before she turned around and threw herself into Draco's waiting arms, allowing him to transform her tears of sorrow into those of passion.

But now... but now, she didn't see another option. Draco would surely try to convince her that he hadn't actually slept with Blaise, that she was never in his bed, that she meant nothing.

But Ginny knew better. Call it divination, call it that muggle thing... what was it? SPE? Well, anyway, call it woman's intuition, but Ginny just knew. Compounded with his odd behavior these past few weeks, his escalating cancellations of their daily meetings... there was simply no other explanation.

And she knew what would happen after Draco failed at convincing her. She would not be crying this time, that was for sure. She was far too furious for that. And this time, when he showed her the door, she would walk out of it without a word, just a disdainful glare that would stick with him for days, and make him realize just how badly he had messed up, and what exactly he had lost. (An awful lot to ask from just one glare, but Ginny had practiced hard all afternoon, and thought her disdainful look was quite up to snuff.)

She refused to let her mind wander into the fantasies in which he came crawling back to her. She wanted nothing more to do with him.

Really, she didn't.

Ginny reached the entrance to the library for what she was sure would be the last time and took a deep breath.

And I'm cutting the ties that bind me to you. Ties that were never really there to begin with.

She entered the library, knowing precisely what would happen.

***

"Harry?" Hermione gazed up at the ceiling of her Head Girl room (private of course), nestled in Harry's arms, safe for the moment from the outside world.

"Yes, love?" Harry looked down at her, his bottle green eyes, so bright without glasses, only slightly out of focus. When Hermione hesitated, he shifted himself up onto the pillows, bringing her with him, cuddling her against his bare chest. "Love, what is it?" he asked again, a bit more worried.

"Oh no, it's nothing serious," Hermione responded more to his voice inflection than his words. Or perhaps more to his emotions. The two had an uncanny knack of being able to sense what the other was feeling. Hermione figured it had something to do with the fact that they were soul mates.

Maybe.

Either way, she could feel his palpable relief at her reassurances, but still he prodded. "Well what is it then?"

"It's... well, don't you think something odd is going on with Ginny?" Hermione couldn't really find the words to explain herself, but Harry seemed to understand. He sighed and pulled her tighter against him.

"I know what you mean. She seems... different, somehow. More..."

"More. That's exactly it," Hermione interrupted him. "She's not a little girl anymore, Harry, despite what Ron seems to want to believe. We're not little anymore, either, but I guess it's easier to see in others what is going on within ourselves."

"Mmmm," Harry agreed, following Hermione's eyes up towards the ceiling, where mini-stars (complements of Hermione's own exceptional magical aptitude) blinked, not unlike the ceiling in the Great Hall.

Hermione sat up for a moment, clutching the covers to her chest modestly. "Sometimes I think she knows more than she should, Harry. I can't explain it, but sometimes..." Hermione thought for a moment about their most recent conversation. "Sometimes I think she knows more than I do about... things."

"Don't be silly, love, you're the smartest woman, witch or otherwise, I know." Hermione sighed and leaned forward into the delicious kiss he offered.

"I know..."

"And I know that I love you, Hermione Anne Granger."

"And I love you, Harold James Potter."

Later, as Harry lay snoring, Hermione still stared at the ceiling.

And I don't understand all the things you've seen.

But I'm slipping in between

You and your big dreams.

It's always you

In my big dreams.

"Who is it in your dreams, Gin?"

***

It didn't go exactly as Ginny had planned.

Actually, it didn't go as she had planned at all.

The beginning had certainly followed the same pattern. Ginny had arrived at his door early...

"Eager to see me, were you, Virginia?" Draco had asked, moving to take her into his arms, and kiss the determination right out of her.

"Not really," Ginny had responded coldly, pushing him away and striding inside. Draco hissed impatiently (he never sighed) and turned to face her, arms crossed.

"Something bothering you?" he questioned her, idly glancing at his expensive watch, not really giving the impression that he cared much.

"Draco, you slept with Blaise." Ginny didn't bother to beat around the bush; they both hated subterfuge. Draco let out a breath.

"Is that what this temper tantrum is about, Virginia? I should think we've had enough of this in the past few months. Stop worrying."

"No, Draco, obviously I am worrying!' Ginny's composure was slipping, and she struggled to regain it. "You're right, we have had enough of this in the past few months. I know I have. I don't want to deal with it. No, I shouldn't have to deal with it!" Ginny's voice rose at the end; she couldn't help it.

And then she just looked at him, at his implacable stance, his impenetrable eyes, eyes that let no emotion in or out, at his inherently inbred disdainful expression. And she willed the tears to go away.

"Virginia, we've been over this before. We have never defined our relationship in terms of monogamy, nor do I want to. I have never claimed to. Don't get too serious on me, sweet." Ginny winced at his inappropriate use of an endearment; he used them infrequently, and always at the times he knew would hurt her the most. "And if you can't 'deal with it' as you term it, then why are you still here? Why are you putting up with it? If this type of a relationship is too sophisticated for you to handle," he paused to sneer down his nose at her, "Then -"

"There's the door," Ginny finished for him, through tears that, at some point, had begun to spill down her cheeks. So much for not crying. She shook her head. "Draco, one day soon you're going to realize exactly what you're losing. And you're going to feel what I feel, only ten times over, and thrice returned. Good-bye."

She took three steps towards the door, the same three steps she had always taken, and paused to look back over her shoulder. He expected her to stop now; she could see it in the overconfident tilt of his shoulders, the bored stance, the glimmer of a smirk lingering around his mouth.

Well Draco Malfoy was in for a surprise this time.

Ginny took the remaining five steps left to the door on legs that threatened to collapse at any second. Every cell in her body screamed for her to turn around, to turn back, that it wasn't too late. The air was thick with emotion, tension so solid you could cut it with a knife. Ginny felt the waves of disbelief emanating from him, even... dare she believe? Regret?

Yet as her hand touched the doorknob, she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"What are you doing, Virginia?" His voice, smooth as ice - but a tremor? - sounded next to her ear. She stopped, and allowed her hand to fall from the handle. Ginny turned, and put her hands on his shoulders, all her sadness and rage coagulating to form one emotion.

Pity.

"What am I doing, Draco?" His eyes cracked just a little bit, for the first time in a year, and she saw into his soul. Saw what he was, where he was, and what he needed.

Ginny wouldn't give it to him.

"I'm letting you go now, love," she said, looking at him seriously through tears that clouded her vision. She blinked them away. "I'm setting you free, even though you never really belonged to me in the first place. I don't think there's enough of you left to belong to anyone, but I thank you for giving me what you had. You're free now."

And she leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek, the warm salty tear that splashed against his cold cheek mingling with her own warm mouth as she kissed him, held him for the last time.

"You're free now."

And she walked out, never seeing the spasm of emotions that crossed Draco's for-once open façade, the regret, the disbelief, the sadness, the anger...

And don't it always seem to go,

That you don't know what you got 'till it's gone.

They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.

The heartbreak.

* finis *