Erin studied the crowd. Couples were dancing with abandon to the loud pulsing music that pumped through the speakers. Men on the pull were chatting up the women seated at the bar. A large group of twenty-somethings occupied a corner table. Their laughter carried across the room as they shared raunchy stories, tasteless jokes and obvious innuendos for activities still to come. Nearby an older businessman sat, no doubt hoping to find pleasurable company in the form of a nubile young woman. Decadent self-indulgence.
In the early days, Erin did not socialize. It was not necessary for her to work; her benefactor supplied her with enough money to live on. She spent her days alone in the tiny house she stayed in. Stayed in. In those days that was how she thought of it. She did not live there. There was no point in making the house a home. No point in starting a life in the strange town…country…body in which she now found herself. These things were only temporary. In the beginning, she waited for the end.
By the end of the first year it was becoming heartbreakingly clear that although her situation was not permanent that didn’t mean it would end soon. She was lonely. Snape owled her every six months or so just to keep her apprised of the war that had killed her. No end was in sight. Ginny Weasley’s family was still intact. Draco was still embedded in Voldemort’s inner circle. Snape would not tell her specifics of Draco’s assignments nor would he tell her anything of Draco’s personal life. He had come to see her a few times. During Snape’s first visit Erin begged him to tell her more of Draco’s well being. He responded, “It will serve no purpose for me to tell you more than I have. If I say he is doing well, it will cause you additional pain. If I say he still pines for his lost love, it will only increase your feelings of guilt. There is nothing you can do to hasten the end of the war. It is time for you to make the best of the life you have and let the future take care of itself.”
So Erin McIntyre introduced herself to the world. She got a job working as a sales clerk for a ladies’ clothing store at a nearby shopping mall. Slowly, she made friends. She went to movies with them, to restaurants. She laughed with them. She invited them into her home. Her home.
The guilt she felt the first time she said those words had taken her breath away. It was all so familiar to her now. The town…country…body that had been so strange now felt comfortable…real…permanent. This was her life and it did not include Draco. It felt like the worst kind of betrayal. Erin knew it was for the best. Somehow that was not comforting.
Over the years the feelings of guilt and loss lost their sting and faded into resignation and dull resentment. Some days she wondered if she would be able to handle the loss of the life she had made. Some days she wondered if it would be better for the people she left behind if Ginny Weasley stayed dead. There were even moments that she forgot about Ginny Weasley and the life she had known.
On the fifth anniversary of Ginny Weasley’s death, she wondered whether the chance at resurrection would ever even come.
The discreet clearing of a throat made her look up. The handsome man had returned. His cheeks were now tinged with pink from dancing and alcohol.
“Won’t you let me coax you out onto the dance floor?” he asked, flashing her a brilliant smile. “It seems a waste not to show off that pretty dress.”
With a forced smile and a dagger-like glare she again rebuffed the man’s offer, hoping he would take the hint this time.
He didn’t.
Laying his hand on Erin’s shoulder, he spoke seductively.
“Come on, baby. You didn’t dress up to spend the evening alone. Let me buy you a drink. Then maybe we can get to know each other up in my room.”
Erin opened her mouth to tell him just where he could stick his drink but someone else spoke first.
“The lady already told you she wasn’t interested in your company, mate. I think you ought to move along now,” came a smooth English drawl.
Erin took inhaled sharply and her eyes fluttered shut, savoring the voice like a rich dessert. It couldn’t be, her mind insisted, not here in Washington. Her heart knew better.
She felt the hand leave her shoulder and heard the handsome man turn to face the intruder.
“I don’t see what business it is of yours, mate. Now piss off before I kick your ass.”
‘Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus’, Erin thought as she listened to the ensuing scuffle. A tiny smile played across her lips as the handsome man pleaded for his attacker to please just let him leave.
Opening her eyes, Erin looked up to confirm what her heart already knew. Draco stood next to her table, watching to ensure the handsome man really did leave. Her eyes feasted on him, examining every minute detail. His white blond hair was short and recently cut. He was thinner and his face had a hardness that it hadn’t known when she last saw him. His ever-alert gray eyes still held the intelligence and determination she remembered although their sparkle had dimmed somewhat. Despite his war-worn appearance, Erin’s heart soared with delight at the sight of him. When he turned back to her, her eyes were brimming with tears of joy.
“Are you alright, miss?” he asked.
In the early days, Erin did not socialize. It was not necessary for her to work; her benefactor supplied her with enough money to live on. She spent her days alone in the tiny house she stayed in. Stayed in. In those days that was how she thought of it. She did not live there. There was no point in making the house a home. No point in starting a life in the strange town…country…body in which she now found herself. These things were only temporary. In the beginning, she waited for the end.
By the end of the first year it was becoming heartbreakingly clear that although her situation was not permanent that didn’t mean it would end soon. She was lonely. Snape owled her every six months or so just to keep her apprised of the war that had killed her. No end was in sight. Ginny Weasley’s family was still intact. Draco was still embedded in Voldemort’s inner circle. Snape would not tell her specifics of Draco’s assignments nor would he tell her anything of Draco’s personal life. He had come to see her a few times. During Snape’s first visit Erin begged him to tell her more of Draco’s well being. He responded, “It will serve no purpose for me to tell you more than I have. If I say he is doing well, it will cause you additional pain. If I say he still pines for his lost love, it will only increase your feelings of guilt. There is nothing you can do to hasten the end of the war. It is time for you to make the best of the life you have and let the future take care of itself.”
So Erin McIntyre introduced herself to the world. She got a job working as a sales clerk for a ladies’ clothing store at a nearby shopping mall. Slowly, she made friends. She went to movies with them, to restaurants. She laughed with them. She invited them into her home. Her home.
The guilt she felt the first time she said those words had taken her breath away. It was all so familiar to her now. The town…country…body that had been so strange now felt comfortable…real…permanent. This was her life and it did not include Draco. It felt like the worst kind of betrayal. Erin knew it was for the best. Somehow that was not comforting.
Over the years the feelings of guilt and loss lost their sting and faded into resignation and dull resentment. Some days she wondered if she would be able to handle the loss of the life she had made. Some days she wondered if it would be better for the people she left behind if Ginny Weasley stayed dead. There were even moments that she forgot about Ginny Weasley and the life she had known.
On the fifth anniversary of Ginny Weasley’s death, she wondered whether the chance at resurrection would ever even come.
The discreet clearing of a throat made her look up. The handsome man had returned. His cheeks were now tinged with pink from dancing and alcohol.
“Won’t you let me coax you out onto the dance floor?” he asked, flashing her a brilliant smile. “It seems a waste not to show off that pretty dress.”
With a forced smile and a dagger-like glare she again rebuffed the man’s offer, hoping he would take the hint this time.
He didn’t.
Laying his hand on Erin’s shoulder, he spoke seductively.
“Come on, baby. You didn’t dress up to spend the evening alone. Let me buy you a drink. Then maybe we can get to know each other up in my room.”
Erin opened her mouth to tell him just where he could stick his drink but someone else spoke first.
“The lady already told you she wasn’t interested in your company, mate. I think you ought to move along now,” came a smooth English drawl.
Erin took inhaled sharply and her eyes fluttered shut, savoring the voice like a rich dessert. It couldn’t be, her mind insisted, not here in Washington. Her heart knew better.
She felt the hand leave her shoulder and heard the handsome man turn to face the intruder.
“I don’t see what business it is of yours, mate. Now piss off before I kick your ass.”
‘Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus’, Erin thought as she listened to the ensuing scuffle. A tiny smile played across her lips as the handsome man pleaded for his attacker to please just let him leave.
Opening her eyes, Erin looked up to confirm what her heart already knew. Draco stood next to her table, watching to ensure the handsome man really did leave. Her eyes feasted on him, examining every minute detail. His white blond hair was short and recently cut. He was thinner and his face had a hardness that it hadn’t known when she last saw him. His ever-alert gray eyes still held the intelligence and determination she remembered although their sparkle had dimmed somewhat. Despite his war-worn appearance, Erin’s heart soared with delight at the sight of him. When he turned back to her, her eyes were brimming with tears of joy.
“Are you alright, miss?” he asked.
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