This life that I have, is all that I have, and this life that I have, is yours... Getting over her was the hardest thing he ever had to do.
Categories: Completed Short Stories Characters:
Feb 05, 2006 Updated:
Feb 07, 2006
1. Chapter 1 by Sophinna
The life that I have
Is all that I have
And the life that I have
The love that I have
Of the life that I have
Is yours and yours and yours.
A sleep I shall have
A rest I shall have
Yet death will be but a pause
For the peace of my years,
In the long green grass
Will be yours and yours and yours.
‘The Life That I Have’ – Leo Marks
He watched as she pointed her wand at her front door and after locking it, make her way slowly towards him, walking carefully so as not to snag her knee length, dark green dress. He smirked at the way it clung to her body and emphasized her slender ankles and calves. Her hair lay loose, curling gently down her back and he was pleased to see a thin, gold encased emerald hanging around her neck – a Christmas gift from him.
It was their last night together before she went away for a three-month healer course and he was going to miss her like hell. He reached out for her hand and she took it gratefully.
“Where are we going?” she asked, smiling gently.
He just laughed and folded her into his arms and closing his eyes they Apparated away. A moment later they had landed in the middle of a forest. “Here.”
She looked around, confusion visible on her milky white face, skin that was lit up by the gentle light weaving through the leafy surroundings. “Where’s here?”
He smiled at her and taking her small hand in his, led her towards a wooden table seated in a leafy clearing. The evening was drawing in. It was almost dark and moths were beginning to flutter around them, attracted by the dark green candles that were alight on the dark green tablecloth of the table. “Here is Italy.”
She moved around the table and lowered herself elegantly into the chair next to him. “Italy?” she questioned, lifting a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
Flicking his wand he parted the leafy bows in front of them to reveal the blue Italian sea. The sand looked almost fluorescent in the moonlight, and she gasped in wonder as the sparkling salt water lapped up against it slowly and calmly. The moon threw pools of light out everywhere and these bounded off the sheer cliff face down to the sea and she realised, much to her delight, that they were sitting upon an over hang that led directly down to the sea. She slowly got to her feet again and walked carefully to the edge of the cliff. There was a slight wind and she breathed in deeply, revelling in the salty goodness of the sea breeze. She glanced down the beach to see a small collection of palm trees moving slightly in the wind and she breathed out a sigh of contentment.
“Come and sit down.”
She nodded and moving as if in a daze, sat back down in her place next to Draco. “It’s…It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
Draco’s hand moved to his breast pocket and carefully he fished something out.
“Draco?” she queried.
He took a deep breath and turned back to his girlfriend. He wasn’t going to ask her to marry him, they had only been together for a few months but he needed to give her something. “There’s just something I would like to say to you before you go on your training course,” he murmured. “And… something I’d like to give you.”
She looked up at him, worry etched on her beautiful face, “What Draco?”
He reached for her right hand. “I want you to know that whatever happens, I’m here for you. I hope you know that.”
She nodded, smiling. “I’ve always known that.”
He took a deep breath. “There’s a big world out there, and I want you to know that wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I hope you’ll think of me.”
Ginny gasped as Draco held a tiny ring out to her. Slowly she looked down at it. It was exquisite – a silver ring with a tiny pair of hands holding a heart in its centre. The heart was topped with a small crown. “Draco…”
“It’s a Claddagh ring,” he explained running the tip of his finger over the metal. “It’s an old Irish symbol of friendship… and love. If your heart is free, you wear the heart facing outwards. But if your heart belongs to someone, you wear it facing in.”
Gasping, Ginny slid the delicate ring onto her finger, making sure the heart was facing in.
“Just something to remember me by,” Draco added.
She leaned across her seat and threw her arms around Draco’s neck, burying herself in his shoulder. “Oh Draco,” she whispered. “I don’t need anything to remember you by. I’ll always be thinking of you.” She drew her head back and gazed into his eyes. “This is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me.” She took a deep breath. “And I’ll always wear it, no matter what. My heart will always belong to you.”
He watched in dismay as tears began to roll down her soft cheeks and he gathered her in his arms. “Ginny ssssh!” he said as he gently wiped her tears away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
She gasped and looked up at him. “No Draco, no! You haven’t hurt my feelings, you’ve never hurt me… ever.”
He looked confused, “Then why the tears Gin-Girl?”
She stood up carefully and pulled him up with her, before taking his hand in hers and leading him towards the steps down to the moonlit beach. “Lets go for a walk.”
He nodded, still confused as she led the way down the path towards the warm sand. He smiled as she slipped her feet out of the strappy silver shoes she had been wearing and leaving them lying next to the cliff, proceeded to run towards the sea, letting the water lap up against her slim ankles.
“Draco,” she murmured as he joined her in the cool water. “I cry because I am happy.”
“Happy?” he questioned.
She kissed his nose gently. “People can cry for many reasons, happy, sad, hurt or in love.”
He straightened up slightly, “A Malfoy never cries.”
She giggled. “It is never weak to cry.”
He held his head in his hands, every so often looking back at the pale blue door where he knew Ginny was lying.
“Mr Malfoy sir.”
He whipped round to see the tall Healer that had taken him out of the room earlier. He jumped to his feet, a lock of platinum blond hair falling into his pale face.
The Healer looked closely at the man in front of him, taking in creases of worry that were etched all over his handsome face and the dark purple circles that were wringing his eyes. Slowly he nodded. “I am so sorry.”
It felt as though there were a hundred knives being stabbed into his heart and twisting around and around. He could hear a loud crashing sound pounding around him and his eyes weren’t working properly. Through the tears that were building up inside his grey orbs he could see the outline of the Healer slowly walking away. He was spinning, spinning round and round and everything was crashing down upon him. Ginny, Ginny had told him that it wasn’t weak to cry.
He gasped, a bolt of pain shooting through him. There was no more Ginny. Ginny was gone. He turned and ran towards the room with the blue door and pushed it open with trembling hands. The bed was empty. She had gone.
He opened his mouth and screamed. It was like nothing he had ever felt before and he screamed louder and louder, as if trying to drown himself in the noise. Never had he experienced so much excruciating agony. He collapsed down wringing his hands through his hair, pulling chunks out and scattering the floor with blond fluff. He fingers raked down his cheeks, drawing blood to the surface, and his eyes were full of unshed tears.
His body began to shake and he lay down against the cool linoleum floor. He let out another cruel scream that shook the potion flasks at the sides of the room.
He was still tearing at his skin when Mrs. Weasley found him and took him into her arms. He lay there, shaking, refusing to allow any tears to exit his eyes while she rested her red head on his blond one and cried as if her heart would break.
He had seen the body. It had been placed in a plain wooden coffin on the ground level of St Mungo’s. Despite his feelings, despite the pain building up inside him, he knew she was in peace. She had looked calm and relaxed, her red hair spread around her on the white lining of the coffin. She had been too good for a life of earth. He belonged just fine but she, but she was too good. She was too brave, and generous, too kind and passionate for a normal life.
He sat back as Arthur Weasley moved next to the coffin. He leant his head back against the chair, refusing to look at anyone. The old man cleared his throat.
“Thank you everyone for coming.”
Draco heard a choked sob from behind him and turned to see Hermione Potter rest her head against her husbands black hair. Her tears dripped slowly down her face, mixing with his and falling to the ground. His heart ached and ached, bleeding pain through the rest of his body. He took in a bout of air, listening with half an ear as he heard his breathing becoming deeper and deeper. He felt faint and closed his eyes again.
“As you all know we are here to say a final goodbye to Ginevra – Ginny.”
He felt his heart flutter with pain again and slowly opened his eyes to stare blankly at the red headed man at the front. He flapped his arms aimlessly until he felt a small warm hand being pressed into his. Gratefully he clutched onto Pansy’s hand and took another deep, steadying breath.
“A daughter, sister, wife, a friend.” He stopped and cleared his throat again. “A mother. She made us laugh, she made us cry.”
Draco coughed slightly and leaned into Pansy. It felt like Arthur’s words were washing over him – not registering. He felt tears welling in his eyes again and furiously blinked them away. Slowly Pansy clutched his other cold hand in hers.
“She dried our tears, made us happy. She listened, helped. She loved.”
He heard another sob from beside Pansy and he felt her hands disappear from around his as she reached over to comfort her husband. In any other situation he would have found it amusing that Ron Weasley and Pansy Parkinson were crying. But this wasn’t any other situation. He wanted to reach out, to tell them to stop, but he couldn’t form the words. He wanted to leave; he wanted to walk along the Italian beach with Ginny, as they had done only two years before. He wanted, he wanted… It was no use.
“Ginny’s love was boundless, and I’m proud that she was my daughter.”
Pain tore at his aching heart and he couldn’t bear to speak her name. He moved up to the coffin and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek but he didn’t allow himself to stay long. He wanted so much to hold her hand, pump warmth and life back into it, to hold her in his arms just one last time. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her.
Draco moved back up to the hospital room and closed the door. He kicked the wall so ferociously that a dent appeared and his foot exploded in pain. He didn’t care. He welcomed the pain. He welcomed anything that would distract him from the haunted look of her deep chocolate eyes as he had been taken out of her hospital room.
He felt tears in his eyes and he closed his lids as they prickled uncomfortably, making his aching head pound. He held his head in his hands and closed his eyes as if trying to will himself to sleep.
It was no good. Nothing worked. He slowly brought himself to his feet and made his way towards the nursery, shaking off the kindly pats and murmured condolences he was getting from passing Healers and family.
Reaching the nursery door he pushed it open and made his way in. He glanced around at the walls, pale blue with the occasional bird and lost snitch. The yellow stars on the ceiling blinked down at him as he moved through the room. He nearly broke down as he walked past the little blue dresser and the pink baby bath they had bought together. He glanced up at the walls again smiling at the picture, whilst aching deep inside. Encouraged by the picture of Ginny’s words and smiles of love, he moved towards the cot.
There she was. His beautiful girl. Without hesitating for a moment, he slowly picked her up, cradling her in his arms as if she was spun gold. With a pounding heart he took in her fluffy auburn hair and long, dark brown eye lashes. He ran his finger gently over her face, stopping at each freckle that was dotted here and there. Draco watched in awe as the little girl opened her eyes, whimpering slightly and he nearly dropped her as she stared up at him with two large, chocolate coloured orbs. She was Ginny’s mirror image.
It tore him apart to watch the little girl, his little girl, snuffle towards his chest looking for something that he couldn’t give. Gently he lifted the blue bundle onto his shoulder and buried his face into the blanket, taking in deep breaths of her calming scent of baby powder. “My baby girl,” he murmured, “My little Ginny.” Then, with her held close to him, he cried.
You go first.
Go through the door before me.
Enter the limousine while I wait by your side.
Enter the shops while I stand behind, guarding your back.
Sit at the table before me.
Please, sample the tastiest morsels while I wait quietly.
My desire is that you go first, in every occasion of earthly life.
Only once will I go before you,
And that will be at my last moment.
For when death claims us, you must go last.
Because I can’t live one second without you.
‘You Go First’ – Kareem Al’Saud
A/N The information and text about the Claddagh ring was taken from ‘Always There’ by Lauren Brooke. The first poem was taken from ‘After the Storm’ by Lauren Brooke. The last poem was taken from ‘Desert Royal’ by Jean Sasson.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.