Forgiveness by idreamofdraco
Summary: Sequel to Tears and Mistakes. Hope can be renewed, but can Draco be forgiven? One-shot.
Categories: Completed Short Stories Characters: D/G Offspring, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger
Compliant with: OotP and below
Era: Post-Hogwarts
Genres: Drama, Romance
Warnings: Character Death
Challenges:
Series: Tears
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 3099 Read: 4151 Published: Nov 16, 2006 Updated: Nov 16, 2006

1. Forgiveness by idreamofdraco

Forgiveness by idreamofdraco
Author’s Notes: Finally…Here is the last part to the Tears trilogy. I might do a companion piece a bit later; it’s already been started but it won’t be finished or posted, most likely, for a long while. So, sit back, relax, and read! And afterwards, if you feel so inclined, go ahead and review! Thanks go to my beta Lyndsie Fenele.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, settings, and terminology belong to the wonderful mind of J.K. Rowling. I am just using them all temporarily and for my own fun. They will be returned relatively unharmed.

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Forgiveness
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The fire crackled merrily in the grate, but the mood in the room was anything but merry. A girl of thirteen watched television as her mother sat in a worn-out armchair, staring at the fire. A newspaper lay on the floor where it had fallen out of stunned fingers. The girl knew that something was bothering her mum, and while she didn’t dare ask what that was for fear of tears, she did notice how one person’s disposition seemed to set the tone for the whole apartment.

“Holly, why don’t you go do your summer homework?” the copper-haired woman suggested. Holly turned off the telly and proceeded to her room without argument. She knew how hard being a single parent was for her mother, especially when the man she loved—Holly’s father—was married to someone else.

Without the sound of the television, the room filled with somber silence. Even the fire ceased to look or sound merry anymore.

The newspaper was over two weeks old. She hadn’t subscribed to the Daily Prophet since she left the wizarding world, but every once in a while, Hermione sent her a copy with news she might want to know; such as Percy being nominated for Minister of Magic—and his winning the election—a few months ago, becoming the youngest wizard to hold that office. The last paper she had gotten contained an article about the Malfoys donating some sum of money to the maternity division of a wizarding hospital the previous month.

After throwing something like that on her, Ginny had been cautious to open this newspaper. She had a feeling that Hermione was trying to help her get over Draco Malfoy.

The only problem was she hadn’t gotten over him, and she didn’t think she ever would. Once upon a time, she would have said that she wanted to get over him too, but that time had come and gone. Now she had no idea what she wanted, besides for her daughter to be happy and healthy. Her feelings for Draco Malfoy were a puzzle she was too frustrated to figure out, so instead, she threw the conundrum where she couldn’t see it, hoping for it to go away.

No matter what she did, though, he wouldn’t go away. Not his memory or his image, or even the man himself.

She had spent ten years of her life without contact with the magical world—no sight or sound of Draco, trying to forget him—and then Bam! There he was. She had met his daughter by Pansy Parkinson, had kissed him passionately, and had longed for him. Then she’d left. Maybe it was a mistake, but her pride refused to be with him—to be loved by him—and let her name stay Weasley. And as long as Pansy had the honor of having his name, she never could.

Almost three more years had passed since the park incident, and her love for him was the only thing that remained from her past life with Draco. Before Holly had come into the world, that is.

Merlin, Circe, and Dumbledore. She still loved him and she didn’t want to forget him or cast those feelings aside. And now that the only thing keeping them apart was gone, she would not go to him. She would not beg for a life with him. He would have to come to her. What were the chances of that happening? Even with Pansy dead, it was likely that he no longer loved her anymore or that he realized they were too different to start anything again. Despite their past, there probably would not be a future.

It hurt Ginny to think that—and she did believe it with all her heart—but she knew she had to stay grounded in reality. She couldn’t live in the past or drown in false hopes. That was no way to live, not with a daughter to care for. What would happen to her once Holly went back to school? She’d be stuck in idleness with those taunting, haunting thoughts again—no way to banish them back into the dark recesses of her mind. She would have nothing to concentrate on to keep herself occupied. Maybe she could get a job. But what was she good at? Any Quidditch career had flown out the window as soon as she got pregnant, and there was no possibility of her entering the Ministry of Magic. She couldn’t just jump back into the wizarding world again after spending thirteen years out of it. She couldn’t bring herself to face all the people she had abandoned—and the family that had abandoned her.

In fact, Holly’s first year had sparked some interest for many of the teachers, but only a few of the students at Hogwarts. It had been rumored for years that Ginny Weasley, daughter of Arthur Weasley, sister of the Minister of Magic, supposed fiancée to Harry Potter, had left the wizarding world without any explanation. Some people said that her parents had kicked her out of the house. Many thought she had left because she could not handle the guilt of turning down Harry’s proposal of marriage. Only a slight percentage of the rumors even considered the possibility that she might be ashamed of a child born out of wedlock, but most people refused to believe that one.

Not that she’d left because of shame. No, she had simply left because she could not stand to be where Draco could find her. He had left her pregnant just so he could marry Pansy Parkinson, when it was Ginny that he had promised to marry. He had known exactly what he had done and gone through with it anyway, leaving her to raise a baby on her own. She had left the wizarding world so that she did not have to continue loving him and seeing him with his wife.

It had been hard on her own, raising a little girl without another, without help, and Holly had grown up beautifully. Not only was she a beautiful girl with sleek copper hair and sparkling platinum eyes, but she was sweet and precocious and intelligent. If it had not been for Holly, Ginny would have lost herself completely years ago. Her daughter was the rock that kept her stable and the cement that kept her grounded.

Ginny tried to rub the exhaustion from her eyes, but keeping them open was a task in and of itself. Merlin, she was so tired.

She saw Holly came out of the hallway leading to the bedrooms and the rest of the flat. On her arm perched an eagle owl that Ginny would have recognized anywhere. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and her exhaustion immediately changed into suspicion.

“We have a visitor, Mum,” the thirteen-year-old witch said.

Ginny shot up from her armchair. “Where did you get that?” she hissed, startling her daughter with her tone of voice.

A voice floated from the hallway, a sound too beautiful to be real and too good to be true. “It’s with me,” it said.

Who else could it be but Draco Malfoy?

Clutching his hand like a vice was little Charlotte, who wasn’t so little anymore. She had a distinction of maturity about her, though it was so easy to see that she was still just a little girl as well. Her curly hair had grown to just below her shoulders, but it was as blonde as ever, and her brown eyes sparkled in the firelight. Draco had also let his hair grow out, and it wasn’t slicked back like usual. It hung at the sides of his face, just barely touching his chin. For a moment, he reminded Ginny of her brother Bill. He really looked no different from three years before, except for the bone-weariness that seemed settled about his thin frame.

She couldn’t help but notice how good he looked, while she had only gotten fatter.

“Wh—where did you come from?” she stuttered. She hated the fear in her voice, but it actually took all her willpower not to jump on the man and kiss him.

“I sent an owl so Charlotte and I could follow it on my broom to track you down. Didn’t know how else to do it.” His voice was so soft he was a bit difficult to hear, but his eyes never left hers.

Ginny laughed out loud, albeit out of nervousness. “It’s called a phone book, Draco!” But he had no idea what she was talking about or laughing at. His confusion made her laugh harder. She also hated how fake she sounded. If there was one thing she didn’t need, it was for him to think she wasn’t the girl he was looking for and leave.

“I didn’t come here to get laughed at,” he grumbled with a scowl.

She straightened up, her nervous laughter diminishing. “No, you didn’t, I suppose. What did you come here for?” she asked quietly, the tone from her laughter seeping into her words.

He shifted his eyes to Charlotte and Holly, as if he didn’t know what was appropriate for him to say with the children present.

“Um, Holly, why don’t you go show Charlotte your room?” Ginny suggested, knowing the talk she was about to have was going to be serious.

With the owl still on her arm, Holly ushered Charlotte to the hallway as the two adults eyed each other. Ginny felt self-conscious in her worn out pajamas that hadn’t fit her too well since she’d gained weight. She had never seen any reason to charm them to fit her until now. She felt dumpy and as big as an elephant when compared to the man on the other side of the room.

Before either could say anything, Holly shot into the room again and wrapped her arms around Draco’s waist. Surprised, Draco wrapped his arms around his daughter as Ginny looked on, too many emotions conflicting within her to sort and identify them properly. Mostly, she was amazed that Holly had done such a thing. She had never seen her daughter behave in any way that showed that she was a hormonal teenaged girl, before. Holly had always been stronger than she in every way.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she murmured into Draco’s side. “Please, I forgive you, just don’t leave us again,” she whispered.

“Wh—what?” a stunned Draco stuttered.

Holly looked up at him. “You’re my dad,” she said.

“How do you know that?” he asked in amazement. He didn’t think Ginny would have told her that, but at thirteen now, maybe she had earned the right to know.

“I’ve known since that day I saw you in the park,” she said. “We have the same eyes.”

All Draco could do was nod.

After a beat, he said, “I’m not leaving.” He looked to Ginny and whispered loud enough for both girls to hear, “I won’t let you two slip away from me again.”

Holly’s smile was brilliant as she hugged him tighter and reached up to kiss his cheek. As she ran back to her bedroom, Ginny finally broke down, sobs wracking her plump frame. Maybe it was the pressure of all that she had endured these past years without him. Maybe it was seeing her daughter come out of the shell of maturity she hid in and forgive him. She didn’t know what made her do it; all she knew was that she couldn’t hold in her grief and distress any longer. It had built up inside of her like a dam and the flooding emotions had finally torn it down.

Draco was at her side in three steps, and in the fourth, she was in his arms. There was nothing either of them could do to turn back time and take back their mistakes, but for now, having her in his arms was enough. Whatever problems they needed to work through—if either one of them wanted to work through them—they had plenty of time to do so.

“Wh—what are you doing here, Draco?” Ginny sobbed into his chest.

He kissed the top of her head, stroked her hair, and answered, “You told me once that you wouldn’t have me as long as I was married. Now that Pansy is dead, I plan to take you up on your word.”

“You didn’t kill her, did you?” she choked out, her eyes wide.

“No.” He spotted the newspaper on the floor and smiled. “You didn’t read the whole article, did you?” She shook her head. “Hm. Well, Pansy contracted a sexually transmitted disease for using a joke condom purchased at the shady back counter of a shop called Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. But don’t worry, I’m not pressing charges.” He was teasing her, she knew, but that couldn’t stop the stunned expression from lighting her face.

“You didn’t…” Ginny started in disbelief, her grief forgotten for the moment.

“No. Apparently, one of her lovers—he hasn’t exactly stepped forward yet—got the joke mixed with his regular batch. The inventors of said joke object claimed that it was a prototype so whatever it did, there’s no cure for it yet.”

The redheaded girl pulled out of Draco’s arms and stared at him. His smirk was satisfied and substituted the laughter he knew would be inappropriate to let out.

“This isn’t funny, Draco! She was your wife, and thanks to my brothers, she’s dead!”

The smirk disappeared as he said seriously, almost angrily, “Pansy Malfoy was not my wife. She had my name, and that was it. Her death was her own fault. Did she really expect Vincent Crabbe to know a joke condom for the real thing?”

“I thought you said the lover hasn’t stepped forward?” she said as her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Draco rolled his eyes, something she had never seen him do before. Maybe he had learned it from his daughter. “He hasn’t. But I made sure I found out who was sleeping with my wife; then I made sure he paid for killing her. In exchange, I kept his name from the press.”

He watched her critically as she rubbed her face and eyes.

“Do you feel better now?” he asked softly, his previous disposition disappearing at the sight of her fatigue.

“Yes,” she replied quietly, while keeping her eyes firmly on his chest. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye. Not now. Not while she hoped for something to happen that she didn’t think could ever be. Thirteen years was just too long to be apart—for her to feel betrayal and hatred and hurt for this man—just for him to ask to take her back. Would she go back to him?

In a heartbeat, she realized.

“Good, then will you marry me?”

Ginny couldn’t believe he was asking her that. She had not seen him in three years, and before that half hour meeting, a decade. How were they supposed to know if they were the same people they had been after she had graduated? No, she knew that answer. They weren’t the same people. Life had taken them along, dragging them down roads they had never wanted to traverse. Their difficult paths to this time and moment had changed them. It had made them stronger, but weaker at the same time.

“What? Draco, Pansy just died!” she cried as she shook her head. Maybe she had heard wrong?

“I didn’t love her,” he said simply.

“But what would people think?” she asked in exasperation. Did he even know what he was thinking? Probably not. Over a decade of loneliness and isolation might do that to a person. What about her? Had she been affected by her loneliness?

“Who cares. I’ve gone thirteen years without you and Holly, I won’t let it go on any longer.” He was adamant, she could see. She had never been able to refuse him once he knew what he wanted—once upon a time when she had wanted the same things.

“But Charlotte…Pansy was her mother…”

“By blood alone. I told you, Pansy wanted nothing to do with Charlotte. And she can’t stop talking about how nice you were to her three years ago and how she will see Holly at Hogwarts this year.”

Ginny knew she had lost the argument, and she didn’t know why she was still arguing in the first place.

“I’m fat…” she said lamely.

Draco stood before her and tilted her chin up to his. “You’re beautiful,” he responded before kissing her. A moment later he asked, “So, what do you say?”

Breathlessly, she said, “About what?”

He leaned in to kiss her again. His lips were so warm, so soft, she couldn’t even think in a crooked line, let alone a straight one. At least that’s what she would say years later.

“Marry me, Ginny Weasley,” he murmured against her lips.

“Yesss,” she hissed quietly.

She had no idea when she had forgiven him for leaving her—though it was probably at the same time that Holly had. The only thing she knew was that she could go on no longer without him. Holly would never forgive her if she refused his proposal. She would never forgive herself if she refused. As he kissed her again and again and again, as her tears fell, she knew that his mistake was worth forgiving if it meant he would never leave her again.
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