You Bring Me Closer to God

She could be grateful. Now that he had chosen someone else, she could move on with her life. Maybe Harry would still be waiting around, like he always had been. Secretly lurking at family gatherings, never quite going unnoticed by her. Draco had always said there was something off with him; something behind Harry’s eyes made him untrustworthy. Draco. He had always been there protecting her, shielding her from things he thought she couldn’t handle. And now he was gone. Who would love her now?

The way he had left her was almost humorous. Had it been anyone else, Ginevra would’ve found it downright funny. It couldn’t be written any better. She could only hope Ron would never find out. And the twins… well, just George. They had told her things would never work out between her and Draco. Begged her to reconsider her decisions, tortured him endlessly, and raised their eyebrows when she came home to tell her mum the two were moving in together. This would be a happy Christmas for them without Draco ruining it all.

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When she and Draco had first met again, it was the summer after her seventh year. She had been working for Madam Rosmerta behind the bar, serving former professors their mead and fire whiskey. He had strolled in, not alone, but with McGonagall. She had chatted with her old Head of House, sneaking glances at him every so often. And every time, he had looked back at her. She supposed he was shocked a Weasley had gone and gotten a job. Throughout the night, she had returned to the pair in order to refill their mugs and gossip with Minerva about what Ginevra was planning to do. She had considered becoming an Auror, but what was there to do now that the war was over? Healing had never truly interested her either. Speaking for the first time, besides his short hello, Malfoy had said one word: psychiatry. Surely, he surmised, there would be people needing to deal with their issues from the war. She obviously enjoyed talking to others, and while it would take more learning than what she was doing at the Three Broomsticks, she was more than intelligent enough to try.

Blushing, she had said she had never thought of it and would truly consider it. He had nodded his head looking like the last thing he wanted was for her to be grateful for the suggestion. An hour before her shift had ended, the pair took their leave. And that had been the last she’d seen of Malfoy until two years after that.

She had gotten her Head Healer license (she considered it way different from normal Healing) from Proctor University and was anxiously awaiting her first day at St. Mungo’s. She had been in Diagon Alley looking from new shoes to go with her Head Healer robes. Clichéd, but true, she ran straight into Draco Malfoy. They had gotten to talking, and by the end of her shopping trip they had made plans to meet for dinner the next week.

From there, they had fallen into a sort of friendship. It never stemmed beyond dinner and dessert, until she had no patience left. They had an unspoken agreement to meet at Dios Saturday evenings at seven. Unable to go through another platonic dinner, she had stood him up. Instead of dining on luscious cuisine, she had sat in her flat with a perfectly wilted salad. At precisely 7:15 her doorbell had rang.

Knowing who it was, she had sat in complete silence not even daring to release a single breath. The knock on the door turned into a loud banging complete with doorknob rattling. She heard him yell her name, asking if she was alright. With no answer, he began to threaten to blow down the door. Ginny had leapt up from her couch, wand in hand. He swept into the room, and his eyes swept the room intently and furiously. Deadly calm, he had asked a series of questions without allowing her to answer: why was she still here, why had she not shown, was everything alright, and, lastly, what the bloody hell was going on.

She hadn’t exactly worked out what she would say to him when he inevitably asked where she had gone. Pausing for a few seconds, she thought out what to say. Then she went for it. Her anguish over being seen as nothing more than a dinner companion came spilling from her; she could not stand another second of his company if he only noticed her when it was convenient, when it was for good conversation. She could no longer look at him and know he was seeing other women. Women who weren’t her and were never going to be her. For what seemed like hours, she told him how she wanted him out—out of her life, out of her flat, and out of her heart.

Wordlessly, he stood waiting for her to finish. With each shake of her head and hand gesture, his gaze intensified. After a few moments of silence, he had asked if she was done. She nodded and waited for him to leave. He took a step forward, his eyes questioning. She too took a step. Everything changed when he told her that he didn’t think he could live without her. That no one and nothing had ever quite made him act like this. He felt out of control and, twisting his face as he said this, soft. Being mushy was not something he would ever be good at. But he knew that he would be missing her even if they had never crossed paths again after Hogwarts.

From there, the next several months were filled with promises. And Malfoys never break their word. So when he had told her he was going to meet with McGonagall once a week about donating money to the school, she had believed him. Then one day she had been strolling through Hogsmeade when she saw McGonagall. Startled, she had asked where Draco was only to be met with a confused stare. Making feeble excuses, she realized he had been lying. Still, she didn’t want to confront him. His weekly meetings turned into thrice weekly, and soon he was leaving their shared flat every day.

Finally, after two long months, she confronted him. She asked who the bint was: Astoria? Pansy? Cho? He shook his head, his eyes bright, silently begging her not to ask. Her heart stopped when she asked him if it was even a girl. Slowly, he shook his head. No. Was it Blaise, his dastardly good looking fellow Slytherin? God, was it Harry? Flint? Dean?

When she was out of words, he took a step closer. She ached inside for the fact that this mirrored the moment they had, seemingly, fallen in love. He told her he was in love with her, and she scoffed. Loudly. But he insisted that he did. That love, nevertheless, was being tainted by the memories of the war. He could no longer look her in the eye because he believed she was just too good, too pure for him. Death tainted his soul; blood was on his hands.

He had been secretly going to Muggle London. Not, he explained slowly, to see a girl. He had gone to a local church and realized this was his punishment. In order to atone for his vast number of sins, he had to commit his life to someone who helped everyone. Christ.

She had almost asked if it was a joke. How could the sex god Draco Malfoy become a priest? He gently explained that this was something he had to do. That he loved her, but couldn’t love her enough. Each person had to deal with the war, he said, and this was how he was going to make penance.

He asked her if she understood why he had to do this. Why he had to give up their relationship in order to help others, just as she helped others. The two of them, he had said, were so good because they tried to fix the broken. She fixed their minds, and he mended their jagged faith. Couldn’t she understand he gave them a new relationship with the Lord? She would be so much happier with someone who could give her everything. Who she could be close to.

“Don’t you understand, Draco?” she had whispered. “You do that. Every look you’ve ever given me. Each time you say my name, I die a little inside. And now that you’re leaving me, forever, I’m lost. I’m broken. But I can’t let you try to fix me the way you are. It won’t be the same. Not like before. Not like when you used to bring me closer to God."