The Wife of the Emperor

Virginia closed the door silently behind her, letting out the breath she had subconsciously held the walk home. Darkness enveloped the flat, the only sound was Virginia's soft breathing. Her mind ached from the emotional turmoil she endured and she dreaded the next conversation, and her body ached from walking the entire night. How she managed to do so without Death Eaters enforcing the curfew, she would never know. Noticing the empty flat, she frowned, as she thought that Harry would have returned by now, the hour being so early. Silently, she made her way to her room, to begin the impossible task of packing her life into a few suitcases. She crossed in the dark, not bothering with the light until she entered her bedroom for the early morning grey lit her way well enough. A pair of glasses glinted in the darkness, though Virginia didn't see him sitting angrily on her bed until she turned the light. She gave a small squeal of fright, grabbing her chest and cursing as she did so.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! You scared me Harry! What are you doing sitting in the dark?"

"Where have you been?" He ignored the Muggle curse as well as her question and glared at her stonily. What has he got to be upset about? Virginia didn't answer, just picked her suitcases out of the closet and began packing. He repeated his question, a tinge of impatience at the edge. This is not going to be easy, she thought as she gave a weary sigh and straightened up from her luggage. Harry's anger was stalled for a moment as he noticed that something was different about her: darker, deeper. Something.... "Why is your hair black?" he inquired and she whirled around in frustration and disbelief, her emotions spilling over into anger.

"I dyed it two weeks ago, remember?" The dumb look on his face answered her question. "I had to go undercover to find out what Malfoy and the Death Eaters were planning on doing after Voldemort's death. It wouldn't have helped if I had my red hair that is so distinctly Weasley." That excuse is as good as any. He wouldn't be pleased if he knew I had to hide myself to take lessons from his enemy. She made her way to her writing desk where she scribbled seven copies of the same explanation hastily. One explanation for each sibling, and one for her loving parents. She even considered writing one for Harry, just to spite him, but she thought better of it, given his current mood. She gave the seven letters to her owl Archimedes and watched as he flew into the distance.

"Where are you going?" Harry demanded as he though just now noticed her packed bags. She sighed at his question and at the goodbye that was hurtling toward them faster than a Nimbus broom.

"I'm leaving." Her voice was solemn and flat as she turned from the window and walked past the bewildered man and into the living room, searching for the last of her belongings.

"How long will you be?" he asked in a small voice, all he former anger gone as he followed her. He sounded so small, so child-like that Virginia nearly rushed into his arms, forgiving him for his stupidity and turning her back on the wizarding world. But she couldn't, she made a deal with the devil and had to go through with it.

"Forever," she answered as she turned towards him, her words sinking in for the both of them. She was going to marry Malfoy to save Harry and he would never know. How cruelly ironic. She knew before she left Harry, she had to explain one of the things that helped her choose Malfoy over world annihilation, besides the obvious want to save lives. She also reluctantly admitted that her heart had a large input on the decision. Damn my heart for wanting what has passed.

"Harry, you and I both realized long ago either consciously or subconsciously that our love no longer exists. We were two kids thrust together by broken hearts and the impeding war between two very powerful enemies. It started dying when you promised to marry after Voldemort's end. We didn't know when that was going to be. Deep down we know that the proposal was the next logical choice. Period. I'm not dumb, Harry. I know you didn't tell me of Colin's death in person because that would allow me to fully let go of my caring for him. I would be able to move on and focus completely on us, and that frightened you." She sighed deeply and returned to her suitcases. She quickly shrunk the items clutched in her palms and stuck them in her pockets since she hadn't the energy to reopen the suitcase she already closed. Harry, meanwhile, followed her like a dog and mentally cursed her for knowing his fears. She walked towards the front door, suitcases in hand, racing against her slowly dying courage.

"You'll be much happier by yourself, and I will be...content where I am going." She handed him her key to the flat, tears forming in her eyes, though no regret shone behind them.

"But where exactly are you going?" All these cryptic messages and half-answers were frustrating him, causing his anger to build once more.

"To my destiny," Virginia said quietly. "Goodbye Harry."

The door shut quietly behind her, closed to his house and to his heart. He stood motionless for a moment, trying to comprehend what happened. After several seconds of mad pondering he swiftly raced to the window, hoping to see her one last time, perhaps discover where she was headed. He scanned the crowds below desperately, but since she no long had her vibrant red hair to spot her by, and the dim light barely lit the faces of those on the street, he searched in vain.

Gone.

She was gone, never to return. The thought taunted at Harry, teased at his sanity until he could barely contain it. He had to have her back. She belonged to him. If he couldn't have her, no one could. He knew there was someone else, and he was going to kill the man who took her from him. These thoughts scared him and empowered him at the same time, filling him with a sense of completion. Frustration and anger built swiftly inside him and he released it all with a loud punch of flesh through plaster. He stared at his bleeding fist and the gaping hole in the wall with odd detachment. By breaking through the wall he had created a physical representation of the hollowness inside him: bloody, cracking and gaping. He needed her. She couldn't leave him like this. The frustration built again and Harry began to pace as he tore his shirt for a bandage to stop the gushing blood, though the warmth comforted him. He did not want, though, to get blood on Ginny's freshly washed carpet. The thought of her caused him to speed up his pace. The repetitive motions of gliding feet and clenching fists did nothing more than add motion sickness to his troubles and he gave up with a defeated sigh. What was he to do now? Drink, of course. Harry directed himself to the liquor cabinet, well-stocked thanks to Ginny's intolerance and his late nights, and poured himself a large glass of brandy. He downed it like ice-tea and poured another before flopping into an old armchair.

With a muttered spell, the fireplace in the corner exploded to life and he sighed in depression. He had to find her, no matter what it took to get her back. Harry brought the tumbler to his lips and smiled as the harsh liquor burned down his throat. It burned with the intensity of her fiery red hair that was no longer. Why did she take the life from her soul with that depressing façade of black tresses? "I had to go undercover..." Ginny's hollow voice reverberated off his cracking skull as he drank and struggled to remember what mission and why...

****

Across Diagon alley, another man contemplated into another fire about the same mysterious woman. Draco turned his glass full of Old Odgen's Firewhiskey in his hand, causing mesmerizing amber rays to transport him to the day he first saw Ginny Weasley.

He had glanced at her in Flourish and Blott's that eventful day before his second year, but she was nothing more than child, a victim to his taunting. The first day he truly saw her was a Wednesday, if he remembered correctly, and the beginning of his fourth year.

Weasley had received a package, and Draco looked on eagerly, thirsty of more excuses to tease the Weasel with. Its frills and fraying edges created much for him to torment the red-headed oaf with. The stupid git walked over to his younger sister, hoping the disgusting robes where for her, though Draco, and the rest of those in the Great Hall, knew better. He recognized Weasley's sister from the bookstore and was amazed at her beauty. She blushed shyly when she saw his eyes on her and he found himself captivated by her innocence. An innocence that was too soon corrupted when Tom Riddle took her into the Chamber two years ago, at the hands of his father. In years to come, he suspected that the Basilisk wasn't the only snake at work that night.

He was too enwrapped with the dealings of his father at the time to take any more notice of the girl who was forced to grow up by the events surrounding her. After that morning, he would catch a flutter of red hair in the halls; accidentally glance at the pair of cinnamon eyes in the Great Hall, seeing nothing more than her beauty for he was blind to her loneliness. This hindsight plagued him in the years to come as remembered his ignorance, when their paths crossed, causing giant waves of discourse.

He never acted on his interest with the ghost-like goddess until his sixth year at Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore had perished, nearly by his hand, an event followed by the now famous Battle at Hogwarts a mere month after the headmaster's death. Many students perished, even more wounded as he was, student fighting against student. His confrontation with Dumbledore had shaken him to the core, and it caused him to reconsider the ideals he was fighting for, though he could not bring himself to fight along side his most hated enemy. The wounds he suffered came not from a Death Eater, but from Ronald Wesley himself, for he dueled that day with her blockheaded brother. He ran into the stupid beanstalk in the mist of the raging chaos and death, and Ron seized the moment, pointed his wand at Draco's heart, and muttered a curse.

They dueled for half an hour and in the end neither won nor loss, instead the both ended up in the hospital wing for the critically wounded. It was there that Ginny healed him quickly and quietly, casting healing charms over his burning wounds and gashes, murmuring soft reassurances that cut though his screams of agony like a beam of sunlight through the smoke of destruction. Her small hand held his in comfort and he gripped it tight for she was the only anchor between the tangible and intangible worlds of this life and the next.

Since then, he often imagined her working hard as a Medi-Witch for the Ministry or aiding others in far-away countries, giving them her healing skills and kindness. But now...but now she was to become instead, the unwilling wife of an emperor, because of him. He remembered how full of Ginny he became after that night, and how their romance had brought something to his life he never knew possible: happiness. And then, then they were torn apart by those they hoped would protect them.

Enraged, he threw his still full glass into the slowly dying embers causing flames to crackle and roar with an intensity he wished he could release. He envied the fire for its ability to scream out its anger in one swift flash of flames. What fueled his anger though was not alcohol. His fuel had red hair and penetrating eyes.

He struggled to keep his mind in the present, not wanting to relive what he did. He didn't want to feel that wound anymore, and it had come to the point where he believed it to be no more than a faded scar. Seeing her again was the salt sprinkled into the wound that stung so fiercely it felt as though he only earned it yesterday.

Swamped by the emotions raging from his struggles, he gave in and allowed the salt to pour.