Reviews: 16 | Table of Contents | - Text Size +
Lyrics used: Switchfoot's "Dare You To Move"
Written for: applecede
A/N: My very first D/G :)
All his life, Draco Malfoy was waiting to live.
And at this very precise moment, he was living to die.
The kitchen was quiet and dark – that peaceful sort of brooding silence of the night hung in the air which was heavily permeated with the scent of stale alcohol.
Draco carefully stepped over Lucius’ foot and looked at his father uncertainly. Contrary to popular belief, Lucius really did love Narcissa. Down to the very end of the relationship where she couldn’t take it and committed suicide. Draco had walked into the living room to see her cold body lay flat on the floor. He remembered running over to touch her hands – still warm from the life she was living in just a few minutes earlier.
There was no note. No explanation.
Now all Lucius did was drink. The Malfoy fortune was gone, and so was the Malfoy pride by default.
Draco felt a bitter twinge of pain in his eyes as he shut them quickly as he bent down and shoved two oranges into his bag. He disregarded that pounding flinch of discomfort now rising to his temples and looked around some more and saw a pack of sugar cookies and two candy canes. He lifted his head over his shoulder to look at his father who was knocked out.
Lucius wouldn’t miss these items.
When his bag was stuff with whatever food essentials he could get, he looked around his kitchen one more time. Bright yellow sunshine poured brilliantly into the room all of a sudden and Draco saw himself – five years younger. He had had his hair slicked back then, his silver speckled eyes were sparkling as he laughed with his Dad over some ridiculous mistake Arthur Weasley made at work while Narcissa placed a piece of chicken onto his plate. Two house elves were refilling his drink.
The sunlight disintegrated into a murky dark blue. Both the house elves had ran away. Narcissa was dead, And Lucius was still sitting at his seat – his mouth hung alarmingly open with his eyes rolled back into his head which had cranked to the left. He was snoring loudly and still in his day clothes.
“Enough,” Draco said quietly to himself. He looked down at his wand which was gripped in his hands and seriously contemplated whether or not he should bring it. Magic used to be the backbone of his life – the one blessing that he took for granted. Now it was the ugly curse that bore upon his soul and reminded him everyday of how tragic his existence was.
Fuck you, he thought silently – his words raging inside his head as he glared down at the wand. It sparked weakly for a second as his tight grip and his violent thoughts boiled down to a slight hesitance.
He packed it anyway, just in case.
Welcome to the planet
Welcome to existence
Everyone's here, everyone's here
Everybody's watching you now
Everybody waits for you now
What happens next?
What happens next?
I dare you to move
* * *
And that was the first day of the rest of his life, Draco thought bitterly to himself the next morning as he sailed majestically through the bright peak of cold morning. Slices of warm sunrays hit him every so often and he inhaled sharply – only to end up choking on cold air and feeling tears sting at the sides of his eyes.
He hadn’t cried for the longest time and this compulsive action opened up a vortex of new, swirling emotions. All of a sudden, Draco found himself, with ridiculously large pack straddled to his bag, his Nimbus 2001 below him, his black gloves gripping the handles and his boyish blond hair whipping all around his face, crying.
And that was the precise moment that Draco Malfoy lost control of his broom and promptly shot toward the ground. He caught his actions just in time and managed to land against the soft dirt platform with a nice crushing plop.
“Oh, you poor dear! Are you alright?”
Draco squinted painfully as he balanced his bottom on the ground with his two hands and saw a short woman scurrying toward him.
Red hair.
Run down house.
Oh, shit. Fuck. This was… this couldn’t be. But damn it – this was.
Well, well - you have hit rock bottom, Malfoy.
“A-alright! I’m f-fine!” Draco stuttered, not able to control his shock from the fall. “Really, I’ll just be off now.” You overweight pork barrel.
“I don’t think so. Come inside with me right now, have a bite to eat before you take off. Poor dear. My sons would be howling and whining endlessly about the pain had they been you.”
The Weasley shits. Draco shuddered.
“Come on, now,” she grabbed him by his arm and helped him hoist himself up gently. “I made biscuits.”
“No, really,” Draco insisted, still cringing. “I’m fine. I’m not hungry.”
“I won’t take no for an answer,” she said firmly. And for some damned of a reason – maybe because he was close to hitting his head - or maybe it was because he literally had nowhere else to go, Draco followed Molly Weasley into the house. Well whatever you called that thing.
* * *
Okay, I really must have hit my head, Draco thought to himself as he helped himself to another biscuit. Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly at him as she spooned several helpings of eggs onto his plate.
He missed his mother’s cooking. He missed his mom – he missed the warmth. So he smiled up at her.
“Mum! Fred and Ron and I are gonna go----- whythebloodyhellisthatbastardinourkitchen?!”
Mrs. Weasley looked up, alarmed. Draco grinned to himself and smirked as he turned around to see George Weasley at the foot of the stairway – still in his sleep clothes. Right behind him trailed Fred and… Ron.
“Mum!” Ron cried out, his mouth forming a perfect O. He didn’t wait for Molly to answer and promptly stomped towards Draco and grabbed him by the collar. “What the hell are you doing in my house? Touch my mother and I’ll kill you!”
“Now, now, Weasley,” Draco whispered. “Why would I want to touch any of you lot?”
Ron growled and proceeded to hit Draco when Molly held her son back. “Honestly, Ron! Control your temper or you will not leave the house today! Now, what did you say your name was?”
“Draco Malfoy,” Draco said, taking a bite of his eggs. He caught Molly Weasley recoil slightly from hearing his last name, but she didn’t comment. Instead she nodded and glared back at Ron.
“Sit down and be nice! Draco is a classmate of yours, after all. And he just had a nasty fall.”
“No, Mum,” Fred retorted as he sat down. “That was his birth, so it was awhile ago.”
Draco grinned at Fred. “Good one.”
Fred gaped at Draco. Ron glared down at Malfoy and looked back at his mother. “Mum. He’s evil. You know this. Lucius Malfoy is Dad’s arch rival! He was a former Death Eater.”
Draco was surprised to see that he had no reaction to all of Ron’s bad talk about him. In fact, he was rather curious to know where Arthur Weasley was.
Molly sighed. “Let’s not talk about it, now eat up. More eggs, Draco?”
* * *
“His mother just died! His dad’s a raging drunk! I don’t care what his family name is. He’s still a child! He’s your age, Ron! The poor dear!”
Draco could clearly hear Molly Weasley’s voice behind the kitchen door as she argued with her three sons. Clearly, the Mrs. Weasley was an avid reader of the Daily Prophet.
Which usually had either made up dirt, funny dirt, or the blunt, truth kind of dirt.
Draco’s news was the very latter.
He caught waves of the boys’ arguments. “Went to school with him… nasty git… called Hermione the ‘M’ word,” (ah, that one must have been Ron Weasley) “Don’t care that his Mum’s dead! Got what he deserved!”
Ouch, harsh. Was that… George?
Before Draco could listen anymore, a worn looking man with a torn jacket and orange hair stepped into the kitchen.
It was the most bizarre thing. Here Draco was – in all his blond glory, eating a large place of eggs and biscuits, looking eye to eye with Arthur Weasley – who was wearing tattered clothes that fit comfortably with the homey backdrop of his own home. Draco’s hair still gleamed.
“Hello,” Arthur said slowly. “Who are you?”
Draco stuck a gloved hand out. “Draco Malfoy. I fell and your wife came to my rescue.”
Arthur’s reaction was similar to Molly’s – he did a double take and studied him carefully but didn’t let Draco see much of what he was thinking as he returned the gesture and shook his hand. Before he knew it, he was discussing last week’s Quidditch game results with this man cheerfully over, admittedly, the most delicious meal he had had in awhile.
Molly came into the kitchen and pulled Arthur away and they discussed something very solemn in hushed tones, all the while the both of them making glances toward Draco and his back – obviously a travel bag – a large one at that. They finally came into the room.
“Draco, dear.” Molly sat down across from Draco. “Let’s not pretend that we don’t know who you are and that we didn’t have history with your father,” she hesitated, a little unnerved by Draco’s lack of an emotional reaction. “But we do realize that you’re in a bad place these days, what with news of your poor Mum - rest her soul, so if you do need help, and I can see that you’re going somewhere. We’d be glad to take you in for a few days.”
Draco hesitated. What would his father think? Well, fuck that. His father didn’t even know he was alive anymore. His father had distinctly told him the other day, in a drunken rage, to go die with Narcissa.
He could use a warm bed for a few days. And some damn good food. And even more – Weasley taunting, his expertise.
Rest, food, and ego boosting?
Yes.
Maybe it would refuel his strength so he could finally start anew and gain back his power like he’d been praying for.
Draco grinned.
“Okay.”
* * *
Draco stayed with the Weasleys for a week before he realized he had no idea what exactly it was he was doing. He had been avoiding these bad feelings stirring within him like crazy – and it was easy, with the way Mrs. Weasley cooked and how warm the house always was. When he wasn’t enjoying her food, he took great pleasure in stealing glares from Ron and the gang.
And the little Weasley. What was her name again? Ah, never mind that – she was the only girl one. She spoke a lot at dinner time and fooled around with her brothers a lot. She had a different sort of attitude though, a bit more spunky and her eyes always shined.
Never mind her, Draco thought as he dragged his broom out into the backyard. He looked up at the bright afternoon sky and sighed. What the hell was he doing here? This past week was more than surreal and it was just getting more and more numb on his part.
Go home, he thought.
Wait, what home?
Just before he was about to mount his broom, a gust of wind trembled past his ear. He looked up and shielded his eyes from the sun with one hand and squinted.
Ginny zoomed past his eyesight and gripped the broom handle carefully and with much skill as she landed, a few feet away from him.
She got off and stared at him. “Hey,” she finally said. Hey weird kid whose staying with my family.
Draco nodded at her. “You’re not bad,” he commented, alarmed at himself for complimenting a Weasley. Well, I guess you’re trying out this be a new person thing, he thought to himself.
She brushed herself off and pushed back the few strays of fire blended brown hair from her eyes. A smudge of dirt was smeared on her left cheek. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ve seen you around at school, you played for Slytherin, right?”
She doesn’t know who I am?
“You don’t know who I am?”
She raised an eyebrow and pitched her broom up. “Should I? I mean, I know my brothers hate you. I know you go to my school. I’ve seen you around obviously. But should I be paying more attention or something?”
He didn’t know how to answer that. Well, bloody hell. What a blow to his ego.
“Do you know who I am?” Her demanding voice interrupted his thoughts.
He looked at her. Was she challenging him? “Of course I do!” he spat out. “You’re the youngest Weasley. The girl one.”
“Impressive,” she said dryly. “Almost scary how much you know. So, what position did you play?”
“Didn’t you go to the games or something? You should have noticed me there.” Don’t sound so desperate, don’t sound so desperate.
She nodded. “Sure. But I didn’t really pay particular attention to the Slytherins. I’m Gryffindor, you know.”
“You have the attitude of one,” he muttered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she shot back.
“You have this know-it-all-I-think-I’m-holier-than-thou attitude, that’s what,” he responded, without missing a beat.
I can’t believe she doesn’t know who I am!
“Well if I do, then we’d be rubbish as friends.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because opposites attract therefore you and I would never be able to attract,” she retorted and began walking.
Draco studied her carefully as she walked away and decided that – the girl Weasley, was, by far, his favorite.
* * *
It was later that evening when he spotted her again. Draco decided he liked her. He had always prided himself on being disgusted with the Weasleys, but it was hard at this very moment when he was living off them willingly and plus this one, the girl – she was so.. refreshing. Like small puffs of cold air while working in the steam room.
“Okay,” he said nonchalantly as he took a seat next to her on the couch where she was flipping through a magazine. She wasn't flustered by how close he sat to her or his trademark musky scent. She didn't even seem to notice.
He ignored the glares of Ron from the kitchen. “What’s your name?”
”Ginny,” she said, flipping through a page.
“Just Ginny?”
“No. Guess what it stands for,” she cracked a grin, but still focused her eyes on the page she was reading.
“Ginevra,” he said right away.
She turned gaped at him this time. “How’d you know? Most people guess Virginia”
“Oh, please. Child’s play. Your last name’s Weasley.”
“Shut up. What’s your name, then? I just know you as Malfoy.”
“Draco.” He smirked at her as if it were the most godly name in the world.
She clucked her tongue thoughtfully and shot him a mischievous grin.
“Draconis Malfoy?”
Pink crept up his face.
"Child's play," she mocked him. “Ooh! Draconis Xavier Malfoy,” she smirked. Draco’s reaction was priceless as she got up and began walking up the stairs. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
This girl was good, really good.
Ginevra Weasley was the very first girl to ever make Draconis Xavier Malfoy blush.
* * *
“Hmm, so Draco. Tell us how your father is doing? Is he getting better these days?” Arthur asked over dinner the next night.
The silence was deafening and all that could be heard were the plates clinking softly in the night.
“I don’t know. I don’t really care,” Draco responded. “Pass the rolls, Ginny.”
Ginny coughed as she handed him the basket. The tension in the air was thick as Arthur thought carefully to himself.
“You, ah – I won’t press into matters. But ah. Hm. Well, then…” Arthur trailed off. Ron coughed and looked down at his food, willing the slice of bread to commit suicide while Draco stirred his soup uncomfortably, looking into it.
Did you ever think, Malfoy, in a million years that you’d be in this position? Stuck in awkward dinner conversations with the Weasleys. Such bloody irony.
“Hey, Draco. Want to play Quidditch in the backyard?” Ginny piped up as she put her soup bowl down.
She shot him a pointed stare as she handed her empty plate to Draco and he piled it on top of hers. “Yeah,” he said gratefully as he looked down at all the dishware in his hands.
Oh, right, the pointed stare. He caught on and stacked them in the sink and followed her out. She grabbed her broom from where it was leaning against Ron's against the shed outside and he took his from the small leveled deck right outside the kitchen door.
“My dad’s just wondering, you know,” she said as she shot up into the air a few minutes later. Draco glided after her and looked at her curiously, her long red hair flowing in the dark night. “I mean. I’ve heard my brothers complain about you enough to know that your dad isn’t well liked within our family. But my dad’s still different, he actually does care if you want him to. Even if your last name is Malfoy.”
Draco looked at her and gave her a half sneer, half smile. “I don’t know what to tell you, Weasley, except you talk too much.”
“Tell me,” she said, floating gently in the air next to him and then gliding over to the tree in her yard. “Why you’re here. And while you’re at it, how long you’re staying. We don’t have the funds to keep you forever, in case you couldn’t tell,” she added bluntly.
He wasn’t angered by her words, or even baffled. Back when the Malfoys were in power, he would have made some snide comment about their lack of money but now – all he felt was this sore ache within him. It was a sense of familiarity – he now knew what it was like to be living off practically nothing.
Only the worst part is – the Weasleys had more than he did at this point. They had love and they had each other.
* * *
It was the dinner conversation the next night that made Draco realize he needed to leave. They were talking about taking holiday in Romania to visit another family member – Charlie. Mrs. Weasley had looked over hesitantly at Draco and then turned to her husband, met his eyes. And then he offered to let Draco come too.
“No,” Draco had whispered, "Enough of this," and then to his sheer and utter un-Malfoyish embarrassment, got up from the table and ran into Percy’s room – the room he was staying in. He closed the door and gripped his backside against it, breathing hard.
What are you doing, Malfoy? What. The. Bloody hell. Are you doing here? And what are you doing to do with yourself?
He took a long second to breathe and swept back his short blond bangs as they fell into his eyesight.
A light tap interrupted his thoughts and he turned around slowly, studying the door. Finally, he cautiously opened it.
Ginny stood there, a mug of hot tea in her hands.
She looked up at him with large, solemn eyes and he felt a little better.
He had spent the most time with Ginny since his time here, and talking to her somehow took his mind off everything. Nobody had ever done that before, but with her casual wit, that slight bluntness and all that truth – so much truth and honesty in her words – she was able to do that.
“You really can come with us, you know,” she said. And to his surprise – closed the door behind her, closed that book and started a new topic. “I like you, Draco.”
Naturally, Draco would have pushed her against the door causing her to drop her mug of tea and snogged her in the appropriate Malfoy fashion. He was never shy with the girls and he knew what sex appeal he had. But this time, he stared at her aghast.
He was hurting too bad to be his old Malfoy self.
All he had room for was the truth.
“I like you too,” Draco whispered. “I like the way you make me feel,” and he meant it. The way he stared down at her so honestly, so frank, made her blush this time. This was not that malicious blond kid she always saw around school. Certainly not the one that made Hermione Granger cry.
He grinned a little, feeling like the old Malfoy and watched as she sat at the foot of Percy’s bed. He sat down next to her and played with his hands. This felt much to him like an awkward first date.
Merlin, he hadn't had one of kinds those since.. well, ever.
“Do people ever call you Gin?” he asked her all of a sudden.
“No, do people ever call you Dray?”
“What gave you such a foul idea?” He wrinkled his nose.
She raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, Xavier?”
He gave her a small smile and she looked at him curiously. “Why all the curiosity about me?”
“I’m trying out this selfless thing. It’s to rebel against my life.”
“Against your life?” she stared at him.
He laughed. “Sad, huh? Potter and his friends would have a kick at that.”
“I’m not laughing,” she said solemnly, her bright green eyes burning onto his gaze. “Harry and I were never friends. Ron was always too busy with Hermione, and Hermione sees me as a little sister. She thinks too much for us to be considered friends.”
“You don’t need them,” Draco said.
“Why, because I’ve got you?” she smirked.
“No,” Draco said. “I mean. I’ve lived my life without have any friends, I just realized that. How fucking sad is that?”
“It’s not that sad. I just realized the other day why my Mum and Dad stopped having kids after me.”
“They were wearing themselves out?”
“It’s not funny,” she said and Draco shrugged – he thought it was very witty. “I think they were trying hard all along just so they could have a girl. You know, since I have all older brothers. Once they got one, they stopped. It’s like I’m some lucky draw. They didn’t really want a child, they wanted a girl.”
“My parents had me so I could carry on the family name and wealth,” Draco offered. He felt a sudden pang of anxiety attack his heart. Throw up your defenses, Malfoy, he thought to himself. “So,” he asked her cruelly, suddenly shifting gears. “What’s it like for you to be more of a concept than an actual human being.” he sneered nastily, not really feeling comfortable doing so anymore either.
“Well. I figure you’d know enough about that,” she said quietly.
He swallowed hard and in the pale warm candlelight of the room, tried not to grasp too hard on the wobbly air. She made him dizzy and she made him weak – he hadn’t felt strong for the longest time. Not since his mother left him and his philosophy on life was burned to the ground.
He reached over and to her surprise, took her hand gently in his – holding it close to his palm like it was his possession. He held it softly and tenderly caressed the inside of her wrist with his thumb.
He trembled slightly and hoped she didn’t see.
She saw.
“Draco,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered back. “I don’t know what’s happening to my life, Gin. I just know I’m so lost right now.”
She stood in front of him and nodded slightly. “I know how you feel. Sometimes, I feel like that too.”
“You might have been a concept,” Draco said. “But your parents love you. I never got that. And if I did, it’s gone now. I’m left with nothing.”
“It's more like you started out with nothing.."
He got up angrily. "Listen, Weasley," he drawled. "I don't know exactly what you're playing at, but ever since I met you, you've been feeding me all this crap. Don't think I don't know, I am older than you."
"And taller," she said provokingly, looking up at him. "What else have you got, Malfoy?"
"I've got.." his breathing was ragged and harsh as he pushed her up against the door and by complete accident - her mug did fall down to the floor with a satisfying clunk. "This," he whispered, his lips trembling against hers before they promptly pressed up against them. He kissed her fiercely so that she felt her skin tingling and he felt his heart racing at a rate faster than racing lightning.
That's what it felt like. Lightning. Little sparks of heat, fast and refreshing.
"You've just got to take a chance," she whispered heavily when they let go. "Even if you have no idea what you're doing with your life..."
He sat at the foot of his bed and watched her lazily with his mercury eyes as she unbuttoned her blouse in front of him. He saw her tiny fingers trembling and the few stray strands of her gingery red hair fall amongst her breasts.
"No," he whispered. "Not this time," and he handed her back her blouse from where it had graced the floor. "Come here," he ordered and she promptly crept into his arms. She put her head on his shoulder and held onto him closely.
He liked the feel of her. This warm bundle of strength he was holding close to him.
She was shaking, he noticed.
"It's okay," he whispered against her hair. "I would have taken this further, that's what the old me would have done. I would have taken it too far. I'm not going to do that with you, Gin. Can I call you that?"
"Yeah," she whispered, feeling rest assured now. He laid her down and she sighed peacefully.
"I like you staying here, Draco. I've never felt this with any other boy before."
"You know," he drawled. "I think you're my favorite Weasley."
She smiled sleepily.
"Hey. Gin. I just realized something."
She nodded tiredly. He could tell she was dozing off, but he couldn't stop talking.
"I realized you're happy with what you've got. And you don't have any of the things I thought would make me happy. Money, wealth, power in society."
"Mmm.."
"What was the chance you took?"
"I went with Tom when he asked me to."
"Tom?"
"Voldemort," she said and snuggled up against him. All of a sudden, Draco realized that this was the girl the Dark Lord held captive when he was in his Second Year. This was the girl who fought to stay alive, the innocent girl who was almost killed by evil forces.
He held her closer. "Weren't you scared? That you were going to die? Didn't you have no idea what you were getting into?"
"I didn't know anything, Draco. And I went into it not knowing anything. But I came out stronger."
"Gin?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you tired?"
"A bit, yeah."
His voice was wavering and his silver eyes flashed in the dim candlelight of the room as he held her close to him. He wanted to hold onto her forever. He wanted her strength - he needed her. To guide him, to heal him.
"Go to sleep," he ordered.
"Okay. G'night."
"Night. And.. Gin?"
"Mmm?"
"Thank you. I think I got it now. I'm going to do what you did and take that chance."
"Good."
The tension is here, the tension is here
Between who you are and who you could be
Between how it is and how it should be
I dare you to move - I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself off of the floor
I dare you to move, dare you to move
Like today never happened
* * *
The next morning Draco was all packed when he left Percy’s room. Ginny slept peacefully, still in her clothes, curled up.
He bent down and hesitantly kissed her on the forehead.
He looked out at the Weasley property and thought – he probably wouldn’t have minded being raised in this family. They did have a thing for boys, after all.
He didn’t know how he’d handle the red hair though, so thank goodness he wasn’t.
When he reached the kitchen, Molly Weasley was at the counter cutting potatoes. She looked up at him and didn’t say anything. And without a word, Draco knew that she had checked up on him and saw Ginny in his arms.
“Mrs----”
“I ignored my own sons, Draco,” she said softly. “I ignored my own flesh and blood because I took pity on you and I cared about another boy who I thought was lost. And you betray me like that, and---”
“I didn’t sleep with your daughter. Well, I did. I mean. We slept, but that’s all we did. I would never – Mrs. Weasley,” Draco took a long breath. “I thought your family was disgusting before I came here. And I truly thought you were trash.”
She stared at him hard, waiting.
“But after this week. You have to believe me when I say all we did was sleep because I have too much respect for your daughter. And for you. For your sons (almost), to ruin this family.”
She smiled a little and let it go. “Oh, you dear. Want breakfast?”
Draco shook his head. “I’ve got somewhere to be.”
“Oh, you’re leaving today? Well at least wait for the boys and Ginny to get up so we can all have breakfast together one last time.”
“I can’t. I’ve got to go,” Draco said, running his hands through his blond hair. “Thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley. Everything my dad was about was rubbish, including his thoughts on your family.”
Draco proceeded to walk toward the door and to his surprise, was enveloped in a tight hug from Molly. “Take care of yourself, dear,” she whispered.
For the strangest reason, he didn’t want to let go. Of this love – this motherly love. A warmth he could get used to. A warmth he felt he deserved all his life.
Merlin, I am so sorry that I insulted you so much to Weasley during our school years. I'm so, so sorry.
When they let go, Draco walked outside and felt the breeze of morning hit his face. He walked over to the outhouse where his own broom was propped up against it and began to straddle it when he heard another pair of footsteps.
“Wait, son!”
He turned and saw Arthur jogging toward him.
“You’re going to need this,” Arthur said gently, handing him his jacket. All of a sudden, Draco felt a wave of guilt wash over his senses. All those years he had laughed with his dad shamelessly about how the senior Weasley wore the same torn jacket with a missing button everyday.
All of it was fucking cruel and unnecessary. Because why couldn’t we have used our money for good? It didn’t go anywhere when we use it for greed. It went to me throwing my life away, that’s what.
He looked over at Arthur who looked at him with concerned eyes. Something a father would usually do. Something a father should have done.
His heart literally ached, and Draco swore that if he ever got a job, the first thing he would do is buy Arthur a new jacket.
He took his jacket and nodded gratefully at Arthur before he got up. Ginny’s words echoed in his mind – take a chance.
He began flying with the picture of her perched on his mind, gracefully whispering these words into his ear.
Draco had no idea where he was going, but he felt that he would be okay.
Maybe redemption has stories to tell
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell..
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
Where are you gonna go?
Salvation is here
* * *
“Ginny, honey. Wake up, time to get a spot of breakfast before you go out with your brothers.”
“Mum?” Ginny rubbed her eyes and immediately clamped her hand down on the spot on the bed next to her. “Where…?!”
“He left,” Molly said softly. “I think that note’s for you though.”
Ginny reached over to the nightstand and with trembling fingers, unfolded the parchment.
Gin, I’m going because I have to. But thank you for everything. I won’t forget it, I promise. If I’m lucky enough, this road will lead me back to you someday.
- Draconis Xavier Malfoy
(and for reputation's sake, remember me as just 'Draco,' please)
She felt tears prick the sides of her eyes as she refolded the note, got up and followed Molly downstairs.
Next to the note on the nightstand was Draco’s wand.
Written for: applecede
A/N: My very first D/G :)
All his life, Draco Malfoy was waiting to live.
And at this very precise moment, he was living to die.
The kitchen was quiet and dark – that peaceful sort of brooding silence of the night hung in the air which was heavily permeated with the scent of stale alcohol.
Draco carefully stepped over Lucius’ foot and looked at his father uncertainly. Contrary to popular belief, Lucius really did love Narcissa. Down to the very end of the relationship where she couldn’t take it and committed suicide. Draco had walked into the living room to see her cold body lay flat on the floor. He remembered running over to touch her hands – still warm from the life she was living in just a few minutes earlier.
There was no note. No explanation.
Now all Lucius did was drink. The Malfoy fortune was gone, and so was the Malfoy pride by default.
Draco felt a bitter twinge of pain in his eyes as he shut them quickly as he bent down and shoved two oranges into his bag. He disregarded that pounding flinch of discomfort now rising to his temples and looked around some more and saw a pack of sugar cookies and two candy canes. He lifted his head over his shoulder to look at his father who was knocked out.
Lucius wouldn’t miss these items.
When his bag was stuff with whatever food essentials he could get, he looked around his kitchen one more time. Bright yellow sunshine poured brilliantly into the room all of a sudden and Draco saw himself – five years younger. He had had his hair slicked back then, his silver speckled eyes were sparkling as he laughed with his Dad over some ridiculous mistake Arthur Weasley made at work while Narcissa placed a piece of chicken onto his plate. Two house elves were refilling his drink.
The sunlight disintegrated into a murky dark blue. Both the house elves had ran away. Narcissa was dead, And Lucius was still sitting at his seat – his mouth hung alarmingly open with his eyes rolled back into his head which had cranked to the left. He was snoring loudly and still in his day clothes.
“Enough,” Draco said quietly to himself. He looked down at his wand which was gripped in his hands and seriously contemplated whether or not he should bring it. Magic used to be the backbone of his life – the one blessing that he took for granted. Now it was the ugly curse that bore upon his soul and reminded him everyday of how tragic his existence was.
Fuck you, he thought silently – his words raging inside his head as he glared down at the wand. It sparked weakly for a second as his tight grip and his violent thoughts boiled down to a slight hesitance.
He packed it anyway, just in case.
Welcome to the planet
Welcome to existence
Everyone's here, everyone's here
Everybody's watching you now
Everybody waits for you now
What happens next?
What happens next?
I dare you to move
* * *
And that was the first day of the rest of his life, Draco thought bitterly to himself the next morning as he sailed majestically through the bright peak of cold morning. Slices of warm sunrays hit him every so often and he inhaled sharply – only to end up choking on cold air and feeling tears sting at the sides of his eyes.
He hadn’t cried for the longest time and this compulsive action opened up a vortex of new, swirling emotions. All of a sudden, Draco found himself, with ridiculously large pack straddled to his bag, his Nimbus 2001 below him, his black gloves gripping the handles and his boyish blond hair whipping all around his face, crying.
And that was the precise moment that Draco Malfoy lost control of his broom and promptly shot toward the ground. He caught his actions just in time and managed to land against the soft dirt platform with a nice crushing plop.
“Oh, you poor dear! Are you alright?”
Draco squinted painfully as he balanced his bottom on the ground with his two hands and saw a short woman scurrying toward him.
Red hair.
Run down house.
Oh, shit. Fuck. This was… this couldn’t be. But damn it – this was.
Well, well - you have hit rock bottom, Malfoy.
“A-alright! I’m f-fine!” Draco stuttered, not able to control his shock from the fall. “Really, I’ll just be off now.” You overweight pork barrel.
“I don’t think so. Come inside with me right now, have a bite to eat before you take off. Poor dear. My sons would be howling and whining endlessly about the pain had they been you.”
The Weasley shits. Draco shuddered.
“Come on, now,” she grabbed him by his arm and helped him hoist himself up gently. “I made biscuits.”
“No, really,” Draco insisted, still cringing. “I’m fine. I’m not hungry.”
“I won’t take no for an answer,” she said firmly. And for some damned of a reason – maybe because he was close to hitting his head - or maybe it was because he literally had nowhere else to go, Draco followed Molly Weasley into the house. Well whatever you called that thing.
* * *
Okay, I really must have hit my head, Draco thought to himself as he helped himself to another biscuit. Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly at him as she spooned several helpings of eggs onto his plate.
He missed his mother’s cooking. He missed his mom – he missed the warmth. So he smiled up at her.
“Mum! Fred and Ron and I are gonna go----- whythebloodyhellisthatbastardinourkitchen?!”
Mrs. Weasley looked up, alarmed. Draco grinned to himself and smirked as he turned around to see George Weasley at the foot of the stairway – still in his sleep clothes. Right behind him trailed Fred and… Ron.
“Mum!” Ron cried out, his mouth forming a perfect O. He didn’t wait for Molly to answer and promptly stomped towards Draco and grabbed him by the collar. “What the hell are you doing in my house? Touch my mother and I’ll kill you!”
“Now, now, Weasley,” Draco whispered. “Why would I want to touch any of you lot?”
Ron growled and proceeded to hit Draco when Molly held her son back. “Honestly, Ron! Control your temper or you will not leave the house today! Now, what did you say your name was?”
“Draco Malfoy,” Draco said, taking a bite of his eggs. He caught Molly Weasley recoil slightly from hearing his last name, but she didn’t comment. Instead she nodded and glared back at Ron.
“Sit down and be nice! Draco is a classmate of yours, after all. And he just had a nasty fall.”
“No, Mum,” Fred retorted as he sat down. “That was his birth, so it was awhile ago.”
Draco grinned at Fred. “Good one.”
Fred gaped at Draco. Ron glared down at Malfoy and looked back at his mother. “Mum. He’s evil. You know this. Lucius Malfoy is Dad’s arch rival! He was a former Death Eater.”
Draco was surprised to see that he had no reaction to all of Ron’s bad talk about him. In fact, he was rather curious to know where Arthur Weasley was.
Molly sighed. “Let’s not talk about it, now eat up. More eggs, Draco?”
* * *
“His mother just died! His dad’s a raging drunk! I don’t care what his family name is. He’s still a child! He’s your age, Ron! The poor dear!”
Draco could clearly hear Molly Weasley’s voice behind the kitchen door as she argued with her three sons. Clearly, the Mrs. Weasley was an avid reader of the Daily Prophet.
Which usually had either made up dirt, funny dirt, or the blunt, truth kind of dirt.
Draco’s news was the very latter.
He caught waves of the boys’ arguments. “Went to school with him… nasty git… called Hermione the ‘M’ word,” (ah, that one must have been Ron Weasley) “Don’t care that his Mum’s dead! Got what he deserved!”
Ouch, harsh. Was that… George?
Before Draco could listen anymore, a worn looking man with a torn jacket and orange hair stepped into the kitchen.
It was the most bizarre thing. Here Draco was – in all his blond glory, eating a large place of eggs and biscuits, looking eye to eye with Arthur Weasley – who was wearing tattered clothes that fit comfortably with the homey backdrop of his own home. Draco’s hair still gleamed.
“Hello,” Arthur said slowly. “Who are you?”
Draco stuck a gloved hand out. “Draco Malfoy. I fell and your wife came to my rescue.”
Arthur’s reaction was similar to Molly’s – he did a double take and studied him carefully but didn’t let Draco see much of what he was thinking as he returned the gesture and shook his hand. Before he knew it, he was discussing last week’s Quidditch game results with this man cheerfully over, admittedly, the most delicious meal he had had in awhile.
Molly came into the kitchen and pulled Arthur away and they discussed something very solemn in hushed tones, all the while the both of them making glances toward Draco and his back – obviously a travel bag – a large one at that. They finally came into the room.
“Draco, dear.” Molly sat down across from Draco. “Let’s not pretend that we don’t know who you are and that we didn’t have history with your father,” she hesitated, a little unnerved by Draco’s lack of an emotional reaction. “But we do realize that you’re in a bad place these days, what with news of your poor Mum - rest her soul, so if you do need help, and I can see that you’re going somewhere. We’d be glad to take you in for a few days.”
Draco hesitated. What would his father think? Well, fuck that. His father didn’t even know he was alive anymore. His father had distinctly told him the other day, in a drunken rage, to go die with Narcissa.
He could use a warm bed for a few days. And some damn good food. And even more – Weasley taunting, his expertise.
Rest, food, and ego boosting?
Yes.
Maybe it would refuel his strength so he could finally start anew and gain back his power like he’d been praying for.
Draco grinned.
“Okay.”
* * *
Draco stayed with the Weasleys for a week before he realized he had no idea what exactly it was he was doing. He had been avoiding these bad feelings stirring within him like crazy – and it was easy, with the way Mrs. Weasley cooked and how warm the house always was. When he wasn’t enjoying her food, he took great pleasure in stealing glares from Ron and the gang.
And the little Weasley. What was her name again? Ah, never mind that – she was the only girl one. She spoke a lot at dinner time and fooled around with her brothers a lot. She had a different sort of attitude though, a bit more spunky and her eyes always shined.
Never mind her, Draco thought as he dragged his broom out into the backyard. He looked up at the bright afternoon sky and sighed. What the hell was he doing here? This past week was more than surreal and it was just getting more and more numb on his part.
Go home, he thought.
Wait, what home?
Just before he was about to mount his broom, a gust of wind trembled past his ear. He looked up and shielded his eyes from the sun with one hand and squinted.
Ginny zoomed past his eyesight and gripped the broom handle carefully and with much skill as she landed, a few feet away from him.
She got off and stared at him. “Hey,” she finally said. Hey weird kid whose staying with my family.
Draco nodded at her. “You’re not bad,” he commented, alarmed at himself for complimenting a Weasley. Well, I guess you’re trying out this be a new person thing, he thought to himself.
She brushed herself off and pushed back the few strays of fire blended brown hair from her eyes. A smudge of dirt was smeared on her left cheek. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ve seen you around at school, you played for Slytherin, right?”
She doesn’t know who I am?
“You don’t know who I am?”
She raised an eyebrow and pitched her broom up. “Should I? I mean, I know my brothers hate you. I know you go to my school. I’ve seen you around obviously. But should I be paying more attention or something?”
He didn’t know how to answer that. Well, bloody hell. What a blow to his ego.
“Do you know who I am?” Her demanding voice interrupted his thoughts.
He looked at her. Was she challenging him? “Of course I do!” he spat out. “You’re the youngest Weasley. The girl one.”
“Impressive,” she said dryly. “Almost scary how much you know. So, what position did you play?”
“Didn’t you go to the games or something? You should have noticed me there.” Don’t sound so desperate, don’t sound so desperate.
She nodded. “Sure. But I didn’t really pay particular attention to the Slytherins. I’m Gryffindor, you know.”
“You have the attitude of one,” he muttered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she shot back.
“You have this know-it-all-I-think-I’m-holier-than-thou attitude, that’s what,” he responded, without missing a beat.
I can’t believe she doesn’t know who I am!
“Well if I do, then we’d be rubbish as friends.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because opposites attract therefore you and I would never be able to attract,” she retorted and began walking.
Draco studied her carefully as she walked away and decided that – the girl Weasley, was, by far, his favorite.
* * *
It was later that evening when he spotted her again. Draco decided he liked her. He had always prided himself on being disgusted with the Weasleys, but it was hard at this very moment when he was living off them willingly and plus this one, the girl – she was so.. refreshing. Like small puffs of cold air while working in the steam room.
“Okay,” he said nonchalantly as he took a seat next to her on the couch where she was flipping through a magazine. She wasn't flustered by how close he sat to her or his trademark musky scent. She didn't even seem to notice.
He ignored the glares of Ron from the kitchen. “What’s your name?”
”Ginny,” she said, flipping through a page.
“Just Ginny?”
“No. Guess what it stands for,” she cracked a grin, but still focused her eyes on the page she was reading.
“Ginevra,” he said right away.
She turned gaped at him this time. “How’d you know? Most people guess Virginia”
“Oh, please. Child’s play. Your last name’s Weasley.”
“Shut up. What’s your name, then? I just know you as Malfoy.”
“Draco.” He smirked at her as if it were the most godly name in the world.
She clucked her tongue thoughtfully and shot him a mischievous grin.
“Draconis Malfoy?”
Pink crept up his face.
"Child's play," she mocked him. “Ooh! Draconis Xavier Malfoy,” she smirked. Draco’s reaction was priceless as she got up and began walking up the stairs. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
This girl was good, really good.
Ginevra Weasley was the very first girl to ever make Draconis Xavier Malfoy blush.
* * *
“Hmm, so Draco. Tell us how your father is doing? Is he getting better these days?” Arthur asked over dinner the next night.
The silence was deafening and all that could be heard were the plates clinking softly in the night.
“I don’t know. I don’t really care,” Draco responded. “Pass the rolls, Ginny.”
Ginny coughed as she handed him the basket. The tension in the air was thick as Arthur thought carefully to himself.
“You, ah – I won’t press into matters. But ah. Hm. Well, then…” Arthur trailed off. Ron coughed and looked down at his food, willing the slice of bread to commit suicide while Draco stirred his soup uncomfortably, looking into it.
Did you ever think, Malfoy, in a million years that you’d be in this position? Stuck in awkward dinner conversations with the Weasleys. Such bloody irony.
“Hey, Draco. Want to play Quidditch in the backyard?” Ginny piped up as she put her soup bowl down.
She shot him a pointed stare as she handed her empty plate to Draco and he piled it on top of hers. “Yeah,” he said gratefully as he looked down at all the dishware in his hands.
Oh, right, the pointed stare. He caught on and stacked them in the sink and followed her out. She grabbed her broom from where it was leaning against Ron's against the shed outside and he took his from the small leveled deck right outside the kitchen door.
“My dad’s just wondering, you know,” she said as she shot up into the air a few minutes later. Draco glided after her and looked at her curiously, her long red hair flowing in the dark night. “I mean. I’ve heard my brothers complain about you enough to know that your dad isn’t well liked within our family. But my dad’s still different, he actually does care if you want him to. Even if your last name is Malfoy.”
Draco looked at her and gave her a half sneer, half smile. “I don’t know what to tell you, Weasley, except you talk too much.”
“Tell me,” she said, floating gently in the air next to him and then gliding over to the tree in her yard. “Why you’re here. And while you’re at it, how long you’re staying. We don’t have the funds to keep you forever, in case you couldn’t tell,” she added bluntly.
He wasn’t angered by her words, or even baffled. Back when the Malfoys were in power, he would have made some snide comment about their lack of money but now – all he felt was this sore ache within him. It was a sense of familiarity – he now knew what it was like to be living off practically nothing.
Only the worst part is – the Weasleys had more than he did at this point. They had love and they had each other.
* * *
It was the dinner conversation the next night that made Draco realize he needed to leave. They were talking about taking holiday in Romania to visit another family member – Charlie. Mrs. Weasley had looked over hesitantly at Draco and then turned to her husband, met his eyes. And then he offered to let Draco come too.
“No,” Draco had whispered, "Enough of this," and then to his sheer and utter un-Malfoyish embarrassment, got up from the table and ran into Percy’s room – the room he was staying in. He closed the door and gripped his backside against it, breathing hard.
What are you doing, Malfoy? What. The. Bloody hell. Are you doing here? And what are you doing to do with yourself?
He took a long second to breathe and swept back his short blond bangs as they fell into his eyesight.
A light tap interrupted his thoughts and he turned around slowly, studying the door. Finally, he cautiously opened it.
Ginny stood there, a mug of hot tea in her hands.
She looked up at him with large, solemn eyes and he felt a little better.
He had spent the most time with Ginny since his time here, and talking to her somehow took his mind off everything. Nobody had ever done that before, but with her casual wit, that slight bluntness and all that truth – so much truth and honesty in her words – she was able to do that.
“You really can come with us, you know,” she said. And to his surprise – closed the door behind her, closed that book and started a new topic. “I like you, Draco.”
Naturally, Draco would have pushed her against the door causing her to drop her mug of tea and snogged her in the appropriate Malfoy fashion. He was never shy with the girls and he knew what sex appeal he had. But this time, he stared at her aghast.
He was hurting too bad to be his old Malfoy self.
All he had room for was the truth.
“I like you too,” Draco whispered. “I like the way you make me feel,” and he meant it. The way he stared down at her so honestly, so frank, made her blush this time. This was not that malicious blond kid she always saw around school. Certainly not the one that made Hermione Granger cry.
He grinned a little, feeling like the old Malfoy and watched as she sat at the foot of Percy’s bed. He sat down next to her and played with his hands. This felt much to him like an awkward first date.
Merlin, he hadn't had one of kinds those since.. well, ever.
“Do people ever call you Gin?” he asked her all of a sudden.
“No, do people ever call you Dray?”
“What gave you such a foul idea?” He wrinkled his nose.
She raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, Xavier?”
He gave her a small smile and she looked at him curiously. “Why all the curiosity about me?”
“I’m trying out this selfless thing. It’s to rebel against my life.”
“Against your life?” she stared at him.
He laughed. “Sad, huh? Potter and his friends would have a kick at that.”
“I’m not laughing,” she said solemnly, her bright green eyes burning onto his gaze. “Harry and I were never friends. Ron was always too busy with Hermione, and Hermione sees me as a little sister. She thinks too much for us to be considered friends.”
“You don’t need them,” Draco said.
“Why, because I’ve got you?” she smirked.
“No,” Draco said. “I mean. I’ve lived my life without have any friends, I just realized that. How fucking sad is that?”
“It’s not that sad. I just realized the other day why my Mum and Dad stopped having kids after me.”
“They were wearing themselves out?”
“It’s not funny,” she said and Draco shrugged – he thought it was very witty. “I think they were trying hard all along just so they could have a girl. You know, since I have all older brothers. Once they got one, they stopped. It’s like I’m some lucky draw. They didn’t really want a child, they wanted a girl.”
“My parents had me so I could carry on the family name and wealth,” Draco offered. He felt a sudden pang of anxiety attack his heart. Throw up your defenses, Malfoy, he thought to himself. “So,” he asked her cruelly, suddenly shifting gears. “What’s it like for you to be more of a concept than an actual human being.” he sneered nastily, not really feeling comfortable doing so anymore either.
“Well. I figure you’d know enough about that,” she said quietly.
He swallowed hard and in the pale warm candlelight of the room, tried not to grasp too hard on the wobbly air. She made him dizzy and she made him weak – he hadn’t felt strong for the longest time. Not since his mother left him and his philosophy on life was burned to the ground.
He reached over and to her surprise, took her hand gently in his – holding it close to his palm like it was his possession. He held it softly and tenderly caressed the inside of her wrist with his thumb.
He trembled slightly and hoped she didn’t see.
She saw.
“Draco,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered back. “I don’t know what’s happening to my life, Gin. I just know I’m so lost right now.”
She stood in front of him and nodded slightly. “I know how you feel. Sometimes, I feel like that too.”
“You might have been a concept,” Draco said. “But your parents love you. I never got that. And if I did, it’s gone now. I’m left with nothing.”
“It's more like you started out with nothing.."
He got up angrily. "Listen, Weasley," he drawled. "I don't know exactly what you're playing at, but ever since I met you, you've been feeding me all this crap. Don't think I don't know, I am older than you."
"And taller," she said provokingly, looking up at him. "What else have you got, Malfoy?"
"I've got.." his breathing was ragged and harsh as he pushed her up against the door and by complete accident - her mug did fall down to the floor with a satisfying clunk. "This," he whispered, his lips trembling against hers before they promptly pressed up against them. He kissed her fiercely so that she felt her skin tingling and he felt his heart racing at a rate faster than racing lightning.
That's what it felt like. Lightning. Little sparks of heat, fast and refreshing.
"You've just got to take a chance," she whispered heavily when they let go. "Even if you have no idea what you're doing with your life..."
He sat at the foot of his bed and watched her lazily with his mercury eyes as she unbuttoned her blouse in front of him. He saw her tiny fingers trembling and the few stray strands of her gingery red hair fall amongst her breasts.
"No," he whispered. "Not this time," and he handed her back her blouse from where it had graced the floor. "Come here," he ordered and she promptly crept into his arms. She put her head on his shoulder and held onto him closely.
He liked the feel of her. This warm bundle of strength he was holding close to him.
She was shaking, he noticed.
"It's okay," he whispered against her hair. "I would have taken this further, that's what the old me would have done. I would have taken it too far. I'm not going to do that with you, Gin. Can I call you that?"
"Yeah," she whispered, feeling rest assured now. He laid her down and she sighed peacefully.
"I like you staying here, Draco. I've never felt this with any other boy before."
"You know," he drawled. "I think you're my favorite Weasley."
She smiled sleepily.
"Hey. Gin. I just realized something."
She nodded tiredly. He could tell she was dozing off, but he couldn't stop talking.
"I realized you're happy with what you've got. And you don't have any of the things I thought would make me happy. Money, wealth, power in society."
"Mmm.."
"What was the chance you took?"
"I went with Tom when he asked me to."
"Tom?"
"Voldemort," she said and snuggled up against him. All of a sudden, Draco realized that this was the girl the Dark Lord held captive when he was in his Second Year. This was the girl who fought to stay alive, the innocent girl who was almost killed by evil forces.
He held her closer. "Weren't you scared? That you were going to die? Didn't you have no idea what you were getting into?"
"I didn't know anything, Draco. And I went into it not knowing anything. But I came out stronger."
"Gin?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you tired?"
"A bit, yeah."
His voice was wavering and his silver eyes flashed in the dim candlelight of the room as he held her close to him. He wanted to hold onto her forever. He wanted her strength - he needed her. To guide him, to heal him.
"Go to sleep," he ordered.
"Okay. G'night."
"Night. And.. Gin?"
"Mmm?"
"Thank you. I think I got it now. I'm going to do what you did and take that chance."
"Good."
The tension is here, the tension is here
Between who you are and who you could be
Between how it is and how it should be
I dare you to move - I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself off of the floor
I dare you to move, dare you to move
Like today never happened
* * *
The next morning Draco was all packed when he left Percy’s room. Ginny slept peacefully, still in her clothes, curled up.
He bent down and hesitantly kissed her on the forehead.
He looked out at the Weasley property and thought – he probably wouldn’t have minded being raised in this family. They did have a thing for boys, after all.
He didn’t know how he’d handle the red hair though, so thank goodness he wasn’t.
When he reached the kitchen, Molly Weasley was at the counter cutting potatoes. She looked up at him and didn’t say anything. And without a word, Draco knew that she had checked up on him and saw Ginny in his arms.
“Mrs----”
“I ignored my own sons, Draco,” she said softly. “I ignored my own flesh and blood because I took pity on you and I cared about another boy who I thought was lost. And you betray me like that, and---”
“I didn’t sleep with your daughter. Well, I did. I mean. We slept, but that’s all we did. I would never – Mrs. Weasley,” Draco took a long breath. “I thought your family was disgusting before I came here. And I truly thought you were trash.”
She stared at him hard, waiting.
“But after this week. You have to believe me when I say all we did was sleep because I have too much respect for your daughter. And for you. For your sons (almost), to ruin this family.”
She smiled a little and let it go. “Oh, you dear. Want breakfast?”
Draco shook his head. “I’ve got somewhere to be.”
“Oh, you’re leaving today? Well at least wait for the boys and Ginny to get up so we can all have breakfast together one last time.”
“I can’t. I’ve got to go,” Draco said, running his hands through his blond hair. “Thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley. Everything my dad was about was rubbish, including his thoughts on your family.”
Draco proceeded to walk toward the door and to his surprise, was enveloped in a tight hug from Molly. “Take care of yourself, dear,” she whispered.
For the strangest reason, he didn’t want to let go. Of this love – this motherly love. A warmth he could get used to. A warmth he felt he deserved all his life.
Merlin, I am so sorry that I insulted you so much to Weasley during our school years. I'm so, so sorry.
When they let go, Draco walked outside and felt the breeze of morning hit his face. He walked over to the outhouse where his own broom was propped up against it and began to straddle it when he heard another pair of footsteps.
“Wait, son!”
He turned and saw Arthur jogging toward him.
“You’re going to need this,” Arthur said gently, handing him his jacket. All of a sudden, Draco felt a wave of guilt wash over his senses. All those years he had laughed with his dad shamelessly about how the senior Weasley wore the same torn jacket with a missing button everyday.
All of it was fucking cruel and unnecessary. Because why couldn’t we have used our money for good? It didn’t go anywhere when we use it for greed. It went to me throwing my life away, that’s what.
He looked over at Arthur who looked at him with concerned eyes. Something a father would usually do. Something a father should have done.
His heart literally ached, and Draco swore that if he ever got a job, the first thing he would do is buy Arthur a new jacket.
He took his jacket and nodded gratefully at Arthur before he got up. Ginny’s words echoed in his mind – take a chance.
He began flying with the picture of her perched on his mind, gracefully whispering these words into his ear.
Draco had no idea where he was going, but he felt that he would be okay.
Maybe redemption has stories to tell
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell..
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
Where are you gonna go?
Salvation is here
* * *
“Ginny, honey. Wake up, time to get a spot of breakfast before you go out with your brothers.”
“Mum?” Ginny rubbed her eyes and immediately clamped her hand down on the spot on the bed next to her. “Where…?!”
“He left,” Molly said softly. “I think that note’s for you though.”
Ginny reached over to the nightstand and with trembling fingers, unfolded the parchment.
Gin, I’m going because I have to. But thank you for everything. I won’t forget it, I promise. If I’m lucky enough, this road will lead me back to you someday.
- Draconis Xavier Malfoy
(and for reputation's sake, remember me as just 'Draco,' please)
She felt tears prick the sides of her eyes as she refolded the note, got up and followed Molly downstairs.
Next to the note on the nightstand was Draco’s wand.
The End.
street scribbles is the author of 0 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 2 members. Members who liked Meant To Live also liked 1000 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 2 members. Members who liked Meant To Live also liked 1000 other stories.
Leave a Review