Sometimes It Be That Way

The Good, the Bad and the Glass

*

A week passed without incident and both Hermione and Ginny agreed to stop stalking Malfoy, at least for awhile. Ginny managed her way through her schoolwork and spent her remaining free time hanging out with Hermione or reading up on pregnancies. There was a large stack of books in her room (the teachers had given her a single bedroom for herself) about pregnancies and babies. Many of these books were given to her by her mother, some by the teachers, and a couple by Hermione whose parents had found them in Muggle bookstores and thought that Ginny might like them.

This particular Friday night though, Ginny was trying her best to read at least some of them but found her mind would not focus on the words printed on the pages. Every time she tried to focus, her mind would wander off to another totally unrelated subject, such as Muggle sports or ethics in the Slytherin house. By 8 o'clock, the books were driving her crazy and she threw one back on the bed before shoving them all off and onto the floor.

Sighing, she took out the glass she had snuck from her house into the school and held it in her hands. The familiar inscription 'Andrews-Malfoy Canada' blazed up at her from the bottom of the glass and she turned it over to look at it again, puzzled by who the Malfoys actually were. She knew that the family was rooted in dark magic and tied to the Dark Lord with nothing but dark history between, but what the hell was a Malfoy doing in Canada making glasses that were most likely cheap since they had ended up in the Burrow?

Carefully, she laid the glass on its bottom on her bedside table and opened the drawer of the table. She pulled out a book she had not looked at for ages. A small diary, nearly filled to the brink with pages and pages of entries. The covers all worn out and crumbling at the edges with a nameplate in the centre of the front cover, the initials 'M.D.' stamped on it.

Ever since she had gotten this book out of the many boxes in the attic at the Burrow, she had not looked at it, not even once. She was too scared to. It held her mother's life in it, and reminded her of Tom Riddle's diary, except with actual words that you could actually see instead of complicated charms laid on it designed to hide the words and pull whoever is reading it into another world. Also, the fact that she wanted to read this and would be intruding on her mother's personal thoughts scared her. But no more. She was going to read it. She had to.

Opening the book cover, she was greeted by, 'This book belongs to...' but no name was inscribed on the long black line written underneath those words. She turned to the next page and found the first ever diary entry.

'December 12, 1978:

I met with Arthur in the library again today. I know, I shouldn't go against my father's wishes and be with Arthur, but I can't help it. I love him, and I know that he loves me back. So, it can't be a crime. Just because he's poor, doesn't mean I can't be with him.

I really don't know what all the fuss is about. He's a great guy.

That's all for now.'

Ginny continued reading, fully absorbed in the diary. She began to understand her mother, the things she gave up to be with her husband. It was pretty romantic how they ran off together after she got pregnant and when he proposed. She began to see her parents in a different light: the world when they were teenagers and together. It's what must have kept them together all these years since.

Halfway through the diary, she decided to put it down and go down to the kitchens for some food. She realized that it was eleven o'clock already and most of the students had gone to bed. She put on a sweater and some shoes before tiptoeing out of her room. She snuck through the common room as there were still two fifth years playing chess by the fire.

The halls were cold and every window she passed, she could see that it was snowing. It seemed fitting for that time of the night. Everyone asleep and the snow blanketing the grounds, the soft powder falling from the sky. Luckily, she passed no ghosts or evil cats or Mr. Filch. Everything was silent and every painting was sleeping as well. It was peaceful and calming.

Finally, she found herself in front of the painting that marked the kitchens. Tickling the pear, the wall disappeared and she could see many house elves busying themselves with making food for the next day. As soon as she walked in, many of them crowded around her, eagerly asking her if she wanted anything. She asked them for some chocolate chip muffins and some juice and they scrambled away, leaving her to find the small dining table off to the side of the kitchen that Dumbledore had put there expressly for the students.

But as her eyes found the table, she saw that someone was already sitting there: Draco Malfoy. He had turned to see who had come and now shook his head before turning back around. Tensely, she remembered how he had treated Pansy in the prefect lounge room but kept getting reminded of what Pansy had kept saying about him. Wondering if she should leave and not have to deal with speaking to him, she stood still, still looking at him. Making a decision, she calmly walked over to the table and settled on the chair across from him.

He hardly looked up at her, his hands playing with the mug of coffee in his hands. "What do you want, Weasley?" he asked, his voice tired.

Still unsure of what she was doing, she answered, "Well, at the moment I want two muffins and some juice and to be able to sit at this table without question because my feet are killing me."

"Usually, when a Weasley approaches a Malfoy, it doesn't turn out so good," Draco told her, studying her. She knew he could see the fear in her eyes, but she didn't back down. She couldn't. She had to talk to him. "Why are you here?"

Her muffins came and two house elves brought her a large goblet of juice which they set on the table in front of her. Once they were gone, she answered, "I don't know. To talk, I guess."

"To talk?" Draco asked a little incredulously. He kept his eyes on her which was very unnerving to her, so she busied herself with taking apart a muffin and eating it. "About what? We have nothing in common with each other. Our families are mortal enemies and your brothers hate me. In fact, you should technically hate me too by family relation. And yet, here you are, eating a muffin and talking to me."

Ginny shrugged and asked, "Are there any Malfoys in Canada?"

He leaned back. "Yes. Why?"

"Do they make glasses?" she asked. Then, "Like the ones that you drink out of."

He nodded. "My father's half-brother, David Malfoy. My family is not allowed to talk about him."

"Why?" Ginny asked quickly, looking up to look Draco in the eyes. "Is he good?"

Draco considered answering her and finally said, "You could say that. He's considered bad seed." He drank some of his coffee before continuing. "My grandfather's second wife had him and immediately ran away to Canada after she found out who my grandfather really was. She was a muggle, of course. Naturally, no one in my family talks about her and the son, and no one outside the family knows. Except you, I guess. Why are you so interested in my family history?"

"I have a glass with the inscription 'Andrews-Malfoy Canada' on the bottom," she told him. Shrugging her shoulders, she said, "I just wondered."

He nodded and nothing much more was said as she ate. Then, he said, "We're not going to be friends, you know?" She looked up, startled, before nodding. "And don't tell anyone about David Malfoy." She nodded again and he seemed satisfied.

After watching him drink his coffee, she slid her muffin forward and offered some to him. Wordlessly, he accepted, and they shared the two muffins together.