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She gazed out the window, her wandering thoughts brought back to reality only by the sound of her child’s voice.
“Is Daddy home yet?” the three year old asked, his eyes full of simple curiosity.
“No sweetie. He’s not going to be home for a very long time...” she trailed off.
He looked up at his mother. “How come?”
Ginny sighed. She still didn’t quite understand that. “He had to go help fight the bad guys.”
Her son’s eyes brightened. “Is he a superhero?” Before waiting for an answer, he started zooming around the room, grabbing the blanket draped on the nearby sofa to use as a makeshift cape.
“Yes. He’s the best superhero in the whole world.” Watching her son act out what he thought his father was doing, she couldn’t help but smile. The ‘cape’ was about forty sizes too big, and he’d grabbed his teddy bear to be his sidekick. Gradually, he ran into the next room, caught up in his own world, leaving Ginny to go back to hers.
It was a very good question he’d asked. Why had his Daddy left? Maybe it was the need to always be ahead of Harry; he couldn’t handle allowing the Boy-Who-Lived to kill Voldemort all by himself and steal the glory. Or perhaps it was simply to prove that he hated his father and would never side with him. After Lucius’s failed murder attempt on her, Draco had been very pissed off. Or even that he felt an obligation to himself to make things sort of right after all of the shitty things he'd done in the past.
Whatever the reason he left, she still missed him. She’d never quite realized how much she came to rely on his strength and warmth until it had been taken from her. And from their son. He was too young to understand now, but he would in time.
He'd been gone for so long, nearly two years now, that she’d started to question why he’d left his son. And her. Did he care more about being the hero than being the Daddy? She shook her head. The time alone led to way too much thinking. He loved them both. She was sure of it.
But there was always that last nagging doubt in her mind. He’d never even said it one last time before he left. Said he didn’t want it to feel like good-bye. But it was.
He’d been determined to come back to them; remembering that last day was what kept her believing. His face had been completely set; he was going to be just fine, he said. Because he had to see them again.
But he never did. His determination was cruelly broken by the same father he’d tried so hard to alienate. The bastard had been cruel enough to tie up his own son and mutilate him cut by cut. The Muggle way. Just because Draco had the guts to say that his father was a bastard...so much for keeping that accusation completely un-backed. The Ministry hadn’t quite agreed with Lucius's claim of lack of evidence once that particular incident had taken place.
But it didn’t matter. Draco was dead. He was never coming back to them...the only thing that kept her through was the fact that there was still a ‘them’ left. Without her son...she couldn’t even imagine what she would have done.
Ginny drifted out of her thoughts long enough to go check on Michael. He was still running around with the cape, completely fascinated by his Daddy being a superhero. But how could she tell him that he’d never get to ask his father about his ‘special powers?’ Or how he killed the ‘bad guys?’
As she left the room and made her way to the small little garden, she sat on the stone bench situated right next to their house. Leaning back, she gazed at the Angel’s Trumpets that she kept planted. One of them was just starting to open; the sun was completely gone from the sky. Any time now, it would bloom. It had been Draco’s favorite flower out of those she liked to plant. Said she was his angel and he would damn well trumpet it to the world. It made her feel closer to him to watch them. If she concentrated, she could almost feel his arms around her again...but this time, he was the angel.
“Is Daddy home yet?” the three year old asked, his eyes full of simple curiosity.
“No sweetie. He’s not going to be home for a very long time...” she trailed off.
He looked up at his mother. “How come?”
Ginny sighed. She still didn’t quite understand that. “He had to go help fight the bad guys.”
Her son’s eyes brightened. “Is he a superhero?” Before waiting for an answer, he started zooming around the room, grabbing the blanket draped on the nearby sofa to use as a makeshift cape.
“Yes. He’s the best superhero in the whole world.” Watching her son act out what he thought his father was doing, she couldn’t help but smile. The ‘cape’ was about forty sizes too big, and he’d grabbed his teddy bear to be his sidekick. Gradually, he ran into the next room, caught up in his own world, leaving Ginny to go back to hers.
It was a very good question he’d asked. Why had his Daddy left? Maybe it was the need to always be ahead of Harry; he couldn’t handle allowing the Boy-Who-Lived to kill Voldemort all by himself and steal the glory. Or perhaps it was simply to prove that he hated his father and would never side with him. After Lucius’s failed murder attempt on her, Draco had been very pissed off. Or even that he felt an obligation to himself to make things sort of right after all of the shitty things he'd done in the past.
Whatever the reason he left, she still missed him. She’d never quite realized how much she came to rely on his strength and warmth until it had been taken from her. And from their son. He was too young to understand now, but he would in time.
He'd been gone for so long, nearly two years now, that she’d started to question why he’d left his son. And her. Did he care more about being the hero than being the Daddy? She shook her head. The time alone led to way too much thinking. He loved them both. She was sure of it.
But there was always that last nagging doubt in her mind. He’d never even said it one last time before he left. Said he didn’t want it to feel like good-bye. But it was.
He’d been determined to come back to them; remembering that last day was what kept her believing. His face had been completely set; he was going to be just fine, he said. Because he had to see them again.
But he never did. His determination was cruelly broken by the same father he’d tried so hard to alienate. The bastard had been cruel enough to tie up his own son and mutilate him cut by cut. The Muggle way. Just because Draco had the guts to say that his father was a bastard...so much for keeping that accusation completely un-backed. The Ministry hadn’t quite agreed with Lucius's claim of lack of evidence once that particular incident had taken place.
But it didn’t matter. Draco was dead. He was never coming back to them...the only thing that kept her through was the fact that there was still a ‘them’ left. Without her son...she couldn’t even imagine what she would have done.
Ginny drifted out of her thoughts long enough to go check on Michael. He was still running around with the cape, completely fascinated by his Daddy being a superhero. But how could she tell him that he’d never get to ask his father about his ‘special powers?’ Or how he killed the ‘bad guys?’
As she left the room and made her way to the small little garden, she sat on the stone bench situated right next to their house. Leaning back, she gazed at the Angel’s Trumpets that she kept planted. One of them was just starting to open; the sun was completely gone from the sky. Any time now, it would bloom. It had been Draco’s favorite flower out of those she liked to plant. Said she was his angel and he would damn well trumpet it to the world. It made her feel closer to him to watch them. If she concentrated, she could almost feel his arms around her again...but this time, he was the angel.
The End.
smokeline is the author of 10 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 2 members. Members who liked Angel's Trumpets also liked 203 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 2 members. Members who liked Angel's Trumpets also liked 203 other stories.
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