Shades of Grey

Shades of Grey

Chapter Sixteen: Life Goes On

"Life goes on within you and without you." - George Harrison's (Beatles) song Within You Without You from Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album.

The holidays had come and gone, much like the ever-changing seasons. Draco and his mother had managed to visit his father at Azkaban. The older wizard looked and seemed well, if not sullen and caustic - his normal self, really. The Ministry had promised that they would be allowed more visits in the future. Lucius told them not to worry and shocked them both by openly kissing Narcissa on the cheek and embracing Draco.

After that, it seemed as though time flew by. A month had passed and then another. Draco had yet to go out in public on a regular basis as the word of his release and return was still somewhat news-worthy. Luckily, the wizarding world had started to become more interested in learning of former Death Eaters being caught by Aurors at the far corners of the earth, in continents like Asia and Australia. Though Draco could breathe more freely now, he rarely ventured into Diagon Alley. Something in the pit of his stomach that nagged all the way up to the recesses of his mind prevented him from doing so.

Instead of going out, he remained indoors and kept correspondence with old mates. Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott had begun talking to him once more, and Blaise, for the past few weeks, had been persistent in sending him invites. Narcissa insisted that Draco go see the darkly handsome boy and stop moping about the manor, but Draco found himself unable to so easily leave the confines of his home. It wasn't as though he had become institutionalised. He had only been imprisoned for eight months. But he did feel hesitant about going out into open, public spaces, especially ones filled with people. Perhaps he had developed a type of agoraphobia or social phobia.

His mother, unfortunately, was not sympathetic and would not relent. Narcissa refused to see her son lock himself up in his room or in the library. He only came out for meals or to stroll about the gardens. It was ridiculous. Draco knew it was absurd, and that he would eventually grow out of this paranoia. It just took time. He knew his mother was impatient and would not afford him such a luxury. So as luck would have it, and in the typical fashion of Narcissa, his mother sent Blaise an invitation to join them for tea.

Draco had been infuriated with her at first. He did not feel like receiving guests, even one as tolerable as his old housemate. He had thought to speak up and tell her 'no', but the steel-like firmness in her ice-blue eyes quickly deterred him. She only wanted what was best for him, and she was right: he should quit his brooding and be active in society once more. He was the head of the Malfoy family now. He didn't have time to sit around and mope.

One of the house elves popped in to inform him of Zabini's arrival, and so he went to the door to greet the tall, dark young man as Narcissa took a seat on the chaise in the parlour.

"Blaise," Draco greeted cordially as he welcomed his guest. "It is good to see you."

"Draco," Blaise returned with good humour, taking Draco's offered hand and shaking it firmly as he stepped into the foyer. "It's good to see what's left of you." Blaise pointed to Draco's scar and raised a dark eyebrow. "I see you got into a tussle. I'd hate to see what the other bloke looks like."

Draco couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto his lips or the laugh that escaped shortly thereafter. He patted his mate on the back and ushered him into the sitting room, glad that his mother had arranged this meeting.

Blaise followed Draco into the room and smiled charmingly, bowing formally to Narcissa, who lay reclining on her chaise.

The regal blonde looked up at the suave young wizard and offered him a polite smile. "It is good to see you looking so well, Mister Zabini."

"As you, m'lady," Blaise artfully countered as he took off his coat and gloves and handed them to the house elf. "You do become more beautiful each time I see you."

Draco rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth.

Narcissa subtly raised a pale blonde eyebrow and smiled tightly. "We should lock your tongue with the rest of the silverware, Mister Zabini."

"Please, call me 'Blaise'," he rejoined with a silky voice as he straightened his back.

Draco shook his head and let out a soft growl, taking his old housemate by the arm. "C'mon, Blaise, let's go into the study."

As Draco dragged Blaise from his mother, she called out behind him, forcing Draco to stop and turn around.

"Draco, I am having other guests over shortly," she announced, leaning down to pick up her tea cup from the table. "I expect you and Mister Zabini to join me when I call for you." As always, there was no suggestion in her tone.

"Yes, Mother," he replied curtly but respectfully and took Blaise's arm once more and guided him to his father's study.

"Your mother is--"

"Don't start, Zabini," Draco said threatening, cutting the umber-tanned boy off before he could finish his sentence.

Blaise grinned in a roguish manner and took the high-back leather seat by the window. Draco went to the liquor cabinet and offered the dark-haired boy a drink. Blaise politely declined, and Draco poured himself a snifter of brandy. He took the seat behind his father's desk and put his feet up, taking a long sip.

"So how are you doing, really?" Blaise asked after a moment of silence, eyeing the blond with silent contemplation.

"I'm well," Draco replied honestly, taking another sip. "I have just become rather sedentary as of late."

Blaise leaned back in his chair and laughed, examining the blond's physique. "Well, you don't look it, mate. You have got to tell me your secret."

"Solitude for eight months," Draco answered dryly, swirling his brandy in the snifter.

Blaise made a face. "Oh, well, I can't have that. It would be a terrible loss for women everywhere," he said with a shake of his head, looking ever-so serious. "I suppose I will have to keep relying on what bountiful gifts the gods gave me." He grinned.

"Yes," Draco agreed without enthusiasm.

"Eight months entirely alone?" Blaise asked with a frown, shrugging his shoulders forward. "It must have been dreadful."

Draco took another drink, quickly finishing his brandy. "Well, I wasn't entirely alone."

"No?" Blaise asked, his interest piqued. "I suppose there was your jailer." His golden eyes lightened with curiosity and merriment. "Who was it?"

Draco got up and went back over to the bar to pour himself another drink. "Ginevra Weasley," he answered quietly with his back turned to his old schoolmate.

"That must have been fun," Blaise drawled facetiously. "At least you had something attractive to look at." He crossed his legs and smirked. "How you managed to walk away without throttling the self-righteous little Gryffindor, I must admit, is a rather remarkable feat."

Draco couldn't help himself from smiling into his drink. "She became tolerable over time," he admitted as he turned to face his old mate.

"I see," Blaise said, casting Draco a side-long glance and then quickly recomposed himself. "So what employment have you been considering whilst roaming the endless hallways and stairwells of the manor?"

Draco walked back over to the desk and took a seat, bringing the snifter back up to his lips to take another sip.

"I am not sure yet," he answered with a frown. "Mother tells me that I should wait to decide on a career choice until the publicity surrounding my arrest and imprisonment has completely died down."

Blaise nodded his head in understanding. "Yes, that would be wise."

Draco turned to his dark-haired mate. "What are you up to?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

"Foreign investments and acquisitions at Gringotts. Tedious work, really," Blaise answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I figure I will scrap it all entirely and live the playwizard's dream of long nights and fast women."

Draco rolled his eyes at the moral turpitude of the ex-Slytherin.

"So are there any women in your life right now?" Blaise asked, and Draco's brow furrowed.

"No," he answered quickly - a bit too quickly.

Blaise's lips twitched. "Mummy hasn't set you up with anyone yet?"

"Thank Merlin, no," Draco breathed out with relief.

"Give her time," Blaise said with a knowing wink, and Draco frowned.

"Don't remind me."

Draco took another sip of his brandy and settled back in his chair. He tilted his head to the side and felt the liquor begin to warm his blood, relaxing him but also causing his mind to wander, threatening to infringe upon memories of a girl covered in bubbles, laughing at him as she splashed water in his face, melting into his arms as he led her across the floor in a dance, letting her fingers linger on his face as she wiped soap from his chin...

"You sure there's no girl?" Blaise asked, waking him from his reverie.

"Yes," he replied in a startled manner, clearing his throat and sitting up in his chair. "I am sure."

Blaise looked at him askance and smacked his lips distastefully, seeming entirely unconvinced. He uncrossed his legs and sat up.

"I realise that you don't want to have your title as Lord of Stoicism tarnished, Draco, but I can read you better than the bold print on a gold galleon."

Draco breathed out through his nostrils and let out a disgruntled sigh. "I have lost my mysticism then?"

Blaise sat back in his chair and tented his fingers together. "And a great deal more, I'm sure," he commented dryly. "You might as well tell me, Draco."

"Tell you what?" the blond asked over his drink.

To the keen eye, and to one who knew him well, Draco looked somewhat startled and nervous. Blaise, being one of those people and a wizard with remarkable perception, stared at the blond pointedly until Draco looked away and shook his head.

"And why should I?" he asked, casting the dark-haired boy an annoyed look.

"Because you have no one else willing to listen," Blaise answered simply.

Draco shook his head, somewhat defeated. "It's nothing. It's no one. I would rather forget about her."

Blaise's lips twitched into a smirk. "Mate, I have never seen you so worked up over a bird before."

"I'm not worked up!" Draco exclaimed, setting down his snifter of brandy.

"No," Blaise rejoined sardonically with a shake of his head, "you're the picture of calmness, a real Zen Master."

"Stuff it, Zabini," Draco muttered back, irritated with how insightful and annoying his mate could be.

"I could stuff it in that Weasley girl, if you like," Blaise suggested with a grin, and Draco whipped his head around to scowl menacingly at the golden-eyed boy, who merely laughed. "Oh, I hit a nerve, did I? I think we found your X-factor."

"My what?" Draco asked, still deeply angered.

Blaise shook his head and raised a hand. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"Zabini," Draco growled warningly through gritted teeth.

The golden-eyed boy was fast reaching Draco's tolerance threshold and quickly wearing out his welcome.

"It's nice to know that I haven't lost my ability to rile you up," Blaise remarked with a smirk and crossed his legs once more.

"Yes, I'm happy for you," Draco said cuttingly.

"Me too." Blaise smiled smugly. "So you and the Weasley girl had a tawdry fling?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No!"

"A rough and tumble between the sheets?"

"No, never!" Draco cried. "She's not that kind of girl!"

"She's not, huh?" Blaise asked sceptically. "How would you know?"

"I just do," he answered curtly.

Blaise seemed to smile triumphantly and shook his head. "No, you're not infatuated at all."

Draco merely stared at Blaise and scowled.

"You have Stockholm Syndrome, mate," Blaise said after a moment, nodding his head.

"What's that, some stupid Muggle term?" Draco asked acidly.

"Yes, it's where a captive sympathises with his captor, often falling in love with her," he explained, and Draco's eyes momentarily widened.

Draco seemed to ponder this notion for a while before he chose to speak up. "Well, how do I get rid of this feeling?" he asked quietly, and Blaise's brow creased.

"What, infatuation or love?" he asked. When Draco did not respond, the golden-eyed boy frowned and then shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "I guess you try to move on."

Draco took another sip from his drink, eyeing it coolly. He may have disliked Blaise at this moment, but the man was right. Draco couldn't live in the past. As much as he believed that he liked Ginevra, he had to forget about her because she didn't feel the same way about him. He had to move on.

"Life goes on, nay?" Draco asked, raising his glass in the air.

Blaise bowed his head in turn and smiled. "Indeed. The world does keep on spinning."

Just then, one of the house elves Apparated into the room with a pop.

"Master, the Mistress requires you and the young Master Zabini to join her and your guests in the parlour," the bat-eared creature announced in a raspy voice.

"Lovely," Draco said with a roll of his eyes and dismissed the elf.

He and Blaise strode into the sitting room to see his mother seated with three women, one of whom he recognised immediately.

"Mother," Draco announced himself, and Narcissa turned her head around and smiled at her son.

"Draco, I'm so glad that you and Mister Zabini could join us," she said with what one would assume warmth, but Draco knew that his mother was somewhat annoyed - with him, he was unsure of. "Missus Greengrass and her two daughters, Daphne and Astoria, have delightfully accepted our invitation for tea."

Narcissa held up a delicate hand to indicate the two younger girls who sat opposite of the stately blonde.

"Missus Greengrass," Draco greeted the older woman with a curt bow, and then glanced over at his ex-housemate and her younger sister. "Daphne. Astoria." He inclined his head towards them both.

Daphne looked as though she was fighting the urge to scowl at him, but the younger blonde, Astoria, looked up at him with wide, rapturous eyes.

"Ladies," Blaise greeted with a low bow, never one to be outdone.

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his dramatic friend.

"It is good to see you looking so ... well, Draco," Missus Greengrass said slowly, searching the young man's face and noting his scar. "It is also lovely to see you, Mister Zabini."

Blaise grinned at this and subtly winked at Daphne.

"Please, gentlemen, sit down," Narcissa ordered politely, pointing to the two chairs that were situated beside the younger girls.

Draco felt a frown creep onto his lips but summarily dismissed it, feigning a charming smile that his mother had taught him when he was young. Both he and Blaise took a seat. Astoria blushed slightly and glanced over at Draco, who sat rigidly in his chair, clearing his throat as the house elf served tea.

Blaise leaned over and put his lips to Draco's ear. "Told you to just give her time," he whispered mockingly.

Draco could almost feel Blaise grinning at him. He hated how the golden-eyed boy was almost always right. It was obvious that his mother had intended to set him up with either Daphne or Astoria. Draco stole a glance, subtly appraising the younger blonde. Astoria was certainly pretty and seemed to be not nearly as obnoxious as her sister or, Merlin forbid, Pansy. She had somewhat of an impish quality to her. She didn't gush or whisper or act like a twit in his presence. She seemed rebellious and playful. Her eyes were almond-shaped and green, with flecks of gold, shimmering a soft hazel colour.

Suddenly, she let out a soft peal of laughter, not a controlled laugh like her mother or sister, but a belly-rumbling sound that was filled with glee. Her mother glanced down at her disapprovingly, and the girl ignored her, laughing heartily as her eyes twinkled in the light. In that moment, she reminded him of Ginevra.

Draco scowled. He had to stop thinking about the infernal redhead. She was with Harry Potter. She had made her choice, and he was not it. The entire time he had been here at the manor, wallowing in his own misery, she had not once tried to contact him. She was too busy making moon eyes at Potter or worse. His stomach churned at the thought of what they could be doing together.

Draco knew that Ginevra didn't care about him. She just saw him as a prisoner and she his guard. It truly was time for him to get over her, and maybe he'd start with the playful blonde beside him. If he had to convince himself that she was someone else to move on then he would.

~*~

Time went by agonisingly slow for Ginevra. She had missed the beginning term at Hogwarts, so she couldn't start her seventh year at school until next Fall. She had spent a month at the Burrow, enjoying all the family fun, but when everyone left, including Ron, she was left to herself, alone with her thoughts and feelings. After a 'free ride' month, her mother had begun to demand that she start doing chores to earn her keep. It was then that Ginevra decided that it would be best to get away and find a job in the city.

Ginevra knew that without her full education, she could not get whatever job she liked. She was not as fortunate as Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Her temporary problems were solved when George invited her to stay with him at his loft above the shop. He also offered her a job at the joke shop, which was tedious, but she earned money, and it helped her keep her mind off other things, off someone.

After the glow of being back with her family waned, she felt there was something missing in her life. Harry had gone off again, leading the Auror campaign to find the last Death Eaters who were in hiding. He always had to be off playing the hero, being the leader. He was a Leo and a Gryffindor: it was in his blood. However, it was not in Ginevra's to be so easily dismissed and carted off to the side. They had numerous altercations via Floo (well, she yelled, and he meekly listened). Finally, a few nights past, after being stood up for a date - again - she Flooed him and let loose. She called him a string of names, all very indecent, and then told him she wished to never see him again. He immediately tried to contact her, but she refused to see him or speak with him. George had to turn him away several times. Luckily, he never once scolded her or told her she should give Harry a second chance. George was awesome like that.

After her shift was over, she went up to her room to lay down on her bed. She was exhausted - mentally and physically. She reached for a book on her bedside cabinet and knocked it off onto the floor. She leaned down off the bed and put her arm underneath, searching for it. She pulled out the book and sat up. Her face fell. It was her old copy of Wuthering Heights. She frowned and tentatively put her fingertips to the worn novel. How many times had Draco read this book? She opened the cover and leafed through the pages, pages he had touched.

Ginevra put the book down and sighed. Why was she still thinking about him? It had been months. Months of no letters, no Flooing, no contact of any kind. He had forgot her; he had abandoned her. He didn't care. She was his former jailer to him, not his friend, not his ...

She threw herself down onto her bed and buried her face in a pillow. She had fallen for Draco Malfoy - head-over-heels, tits-over-ass. It didn't sound very fitting but neither was their 'relationship'. She was a fool to believe that there could be something between them, but she was a romantic at heart. Try as she may to be brave, strong, and independent, Ginevra Weasley was also an idealist. Draco may not be her ideal, but what she felt when she was with him was magical, simply put.

Ginevra sat up on her bed and put her determined face on. If Draco was too reserved or too embarrassed to contact her then she would contact him. She went over to her small desk and took out a piece of parchment and a quill, unscrewing the top to her ink pot. She dipped the quill in the ink and began to scribble furiously onto the dried paper. She didn't think of what she was going write, she just wrote it. She then stood up and began rolling up the parchment until it was tiny. She went over to BeeBee, a gift from Hermione, and roused the tiny grey owl from its sleep, gently wrapping the parchment around its leg.

"To Draco Malfoy at Malfoy Manor, BeeBee. Hurry," she told the small bird as she opened her window to let the owl take flight.

Ginevra watched BeeBee take off with her letter and frowned. She had to tell someone about this. She had bottled it all up for far too long. What if Draco ignored her letter? What if he wrote her back? There were so many questions, and she needed someone to discuss them with. Normally, when she wanted advice, she'd turn to her mother or Hermione. She couldn't this time. They were both too close to Harry and wouldn't understand her relationship with Draco.

Ginevra grabbed her coat and ran downstairs into the shop and out the door, waving to George, telling him that she'd be back later. She ran around the corner and stopped. She closed her eyes and began to concentrate with all her mind. She tried to remember the house that looked like a chess rook with a large black cylinder behind it, accented with a ghostly-looking moon and a sign on the front gate that read: 'Keep off the Dirigible Plums'.

With a loud pop, Ginevra Apparated to her chosen destination. She walked forward and opened the creaky gate, making her way up the zig-zag path. She rapped her knuckles on thick, black door studded with iron nails, watching the knocker, which was in the shape of an eagle, jiggle. After a moment, the door opened, and a pair of large blue eyes met her amber-coloured ones.

"Ginny," a soft voice said without question as though Ginevra's arrival was anticipated, or the fact that it was illogical for one to ask a question that one already had the answer to.

"Hey, Luna," Ginevra greeted, smiling up at the doe-eyed blonde. "I'm sorry to come unannounced. May I come in?"

Luna Lovegood nodded her head and smiled, opening the door wide and stepping to the side, allowing the redhead to enter.

"How can I help you, Ginny?" Luna asked, getting to the point as she ushered the ex-Gryffindor into the parlour to take a seat. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please," Ginevra answered Luna's second question.

"Earl Grey or Creetrab Bark?"

"Uh, Earl Grey, please," Ginevra answered politely, wondering what 'Creetrab' was.

Luna smiled and conjured a tea set, pouring Ginevra and herself two steaming cups of Earl Grey.

Ginevra took a sip and tried to calm her nerves. "I came here, Luna, because I really needed someone to talk to."

Luna's smile widened. "You can talk to me about anything, Ginny. Is there something wrong?" she asked, the insightful girl that she was.

Ginevra shook her head. "Yes and no." She took in a deep breath. "There's this boy I like."

"Harry?"

"No, not Harry."

Ginevra swallowed nervously, but Luna did not frown or speak. She merely listened.

"It's Draco Malfoy," she admitted quickly and lowered her head, sheepishly looking up at Luna, expecting a look of shock or disgust to register on the blonde's face.

Luna only looked at her with soft, warm eyes, waiting for the redhead to continue.

"As you may know, I was the one who looked after him while he was under arrest at Godric's Hollow. I was his jailer," she clarified, clearing her throat uncomfortably.

If Luna was unaware of this fact, she did not show it. Again, her face was impassive yet comforting, reassuring.

"I-I became close with him," Ginevra stuttered, still unsure why Luna was not reacting to this information.

"Well, you were both living in the same house," the blonde finally commented with a soft, airy voice.

Ginevra couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Luna!"

The blonde's doe eyes creased into a smile at the redhead's outburst, and Ginevra's mouth opened in shock. Was Luna being sarcastic?

"I know what you meant," Luna said with a mischievous smile that belied the otherwise wistful expression on her face. "I thought I'd attempt levity to distract you."

"Thanks," Ginevra said dryly, sitting back in her chair to glare at the blonde.

"How close did you two get?" Luna asked as she set down her cup.

Ginevra let out a sigh. "Closer than anyone I have ever been with, including Harry."

"Oh?"

"He knows so much about me, Luna, and I him," Ginevra stated with passion. "He's really not that bad once you get to know him. Sure, he's still an arrogant, bigoted prat, but he's trying, trying to become a better man." She looked up at the ceiling with a dreamy expression on her freckled face. "He listened to me, Luna, really listened." She blushed shyly. "He even taught me how to dance."

Luna raised a blonde eyebrow. "That sounds like an interesting prisoner-guard arrangement."

Ginevra shook herself from her reverie and let out another big sigh.

"What else happened?" Luna asked, intuitively knowing that there was more to this relationship that listening and dancing.

"I--He--We kissed," Ginevra admitted, and the blonde nodded her head.

"What was it like?"

Ginevra smiled in remembrance. "Our lips touched, only for an moment, but ..." She paused and then let out a wistful sigh. "It was wonderful, Luna. It felt natural. It felt like home."

Luna sat back in her chair and examined her younger friend. "I think you have developed Florence Nightingale Syndrome," she stated as a matter-of-fact.

Ginevra looked up. "What's that?"

"It's a Muggle term for when a nurse falls in love with her patient," she answered and then smiled knowingly at Ginevra. "Or, in your case, it is where a jailer falls in love with her prisoner."

Ginevra swallowed hard and looked up at her dear friend. "What do I do about it?"

"What do you want to do about it?" Luna asked.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully and looked down into her tea cup.

After a moment of silence, Luna leaned forward and put her hand on Ginevra's knee. "Follow your heart if you can't understand the incoherent babbling of your mind," she offered sagely.

"Is that logical?"

"No, Ginny." Luna shook her head and smiled. "That's love."

~*~

Author notes: Luna and Blaise just always seem to get to the crux of the matter, don't they? I love how those two are so much alike and yet so different (this is all in my mind, of course).

Now, aren't you curious about what Ginny wrote in her letter to Draco? *grins* Only two more chapters left. Excited?