“Oi, ferret!”
Merlin, what more shite could they possibly have up their sleeves? Draco rolled his eyes warily as he turned to face his caller.
Behind him he found Fred Weasley with his hand turned palm up in front of his freckled face as if presenting something, sporting a smirk and an evil glint in his eye. Draco realized a moment too late that there was a pile of fine yellow powder in the middle of the redhead’s hand. Fred took a deep breath and blew a cloud of dust right into Draco’s face. Closing his eyes on instinct, Draco sputtered and coughed after having inhaled quite a bit of the powder, but when he tried opening his eyes again, he found his lids were glued shut. Great.
“Sodding wanker!” Draco shouted as his fingers came up to attempt to pry his eyelids open again.
Howling laughter came from the twin in front of him, echoed by his counterpart from somewhere behind Draco.
“Excellent,” Fred quieted his laughter long enough to make a mock-pompous observation, “the Lid-Patch Dust is ready for the market!”
“Don’t you fret, Malfoy!” George chimed in cheerily. “There’s a simple charm that will sort that little problem out for you!”
Giving up on manually opening his eyes, Draco let out an irritated sigh. “And you won’t be telling me what that is.”
The laughter started up again, but died instantly a moment later.
“FREDRICK ALBERT AND GEORGE PHILIP!” the commanding female voice of Mrs. Weasley boomed from a few meters away.
“Got to go, mate. Enjoy!” Fred whispered before Draco heard the pair of them scamper off, snickering loudly.
“Draco dear. I’m so sorry about them.” Her call was more soothing and motherly as she approached.
Feeling like a five year old being picked on by his big brothers, he did all he could do at the moment and stood there waiting to be rescued. He would never tell anyone, but being the unwilling guinea pig for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes whenever he happened to drop by the Burrow made him feel more at home than one would think. Being picked on was better than being ignored, was better than being hated – was better than being alone. He had annoying older brothers; he had a family.
“Descohesum.”
Upon the counter-spell meeting his eyes, his lids peeled apart to find a warm and vibrantly full face in front of him surrounded in a halo of frizzy red hair.
“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” he muttered through a shameful smirk. “You’d think I could better look out for myself by now.”
“Molly, dear,” she scolded lightly with a wide smile across her face, her eyes twinkling. “I’ve told you before, you are of age. There is no more need for the formalities. Call me Molly.”
“Right – er, Molly,” he mumbled awkwardly as they walked back to the teetering house that looked as if it could fall to one side at any moment.
Taking a look at the shabby residence, he could remember when he thought of himself as so very superior due to his Pureblood lineage, worthy of the most expensive of everything. His wardrobe was always top of the line, his food made from the highest quality ingredients. His toys were hardly bought to play with, but to revere for their value. Money had bought him every earthly possession he ever wanted, and the thought of having so much of it repulsed him now. The sight of the friendly dwelling now reminded him of family rather than lack of Galleons.
Dipping occasionally into his inheritance for necessities, he only bought what he needed. A flat in the city near the Ministry for himself, and maybe for Ginny as well once she had finished her final year at Hogwarts. He wore moderately priced clothing, nothing flashy or unnecessary, but just nice enough for work. He bought his food from the Muggle grocer down the street, and had taken very well to cooking for himself. His elves still resided at Malfoy Manor, and when he gave them permission to keep the Manor in top shape, their large eyes filled with tears at the honor.
That had been the one time he had visited his father’s house since last June, over a year ago. Once thinking of selling it, he immediately thought better. He would return one day to show his children where generations of their heritage had come from, to teach them about their family history, the good and the very bad. They would learn their part in the fall of Tom Riddle so that when they cross the path of a person cruel enough to punish them for their name, they’ll at least know why. Maybe they’ll choose to live in the Manor one day, unburdened by dark memories, and begin a new history filled with love and laughter.
As he was led through the back door to the kitchen, Draco remembered why he had retreated earlier in the first place. Harry still sat at the huge kitchen table alone, looking bored as he supervised several large knives chopping away at different vegetables. It had been he, Ron, Hermione, and Harry sitting around the table before, but Ron had about chopped his finger off when Hermione had decided to brush his cheek with the back of her hand. After a sickening display of gooey eyes, they made a thin excuse about checking on the arrangements of the party decorations in the front yard, and then hastily exited out the back. Then it was just him and Harry, the latter no longer wearing his ‘I’m just fine’ face and taking to ignoring Draco. That was when the tension had become unbearable and Draco escaped out the back door as well in hopes of finding the birthday girl. No such luck.
“Where is your help?” Mrs. Weasley questioned Harry, and he seemed to snap out of his thoughts, his eyes un-glazing as they focused on her.
“Dunno,” he replied, and then turned back to his chopping.
“Well,” she started tersely, now apparently on a mission to seek them out, “here you go then.”
Plopping Draco back down into his chair, she gestured towards the work to be done, and then exited back out the door with a huff.
“Looks like you can’t escape this time,” Harry mumbled, his eyes on his knives.
“Guess not,” Draco replied, examining the scrubbed wood of the table. “I wouldn’t cross that woman if I knew what was good for me.”
Harry harrumphed, and Draco stole a sideways glance. A slight smirk brought Harry’s mouth up on one side. With the subtle break in tension, Draco then bewitched a few more knives to start chopping. There were several minutes of silence.
“I was thinking about something you said awhile back,” Harry spoke up. “You said that you weren’t sure how you escaped the night Dumbledore died. You seemed sure you should have been killed at your Manor.”
Draco stiffened, his knives freezing in midair. Why would Harry ever bring that up? Was he still that bitter?
“I want to tell you something about myself that might help you out with that.”
Harry put his wand down and allowed his knives to lie flat. Turning in his seat, he looked Draco in the eye for the first time in months. Setting his own wand down, Draco’s knives also settled onto the table. The fair-haired wizard’s mouth was a tight line, his eyes cautious. Attempting to mentally calm the steadily increasing beat of his heart, he readied himself. Harry took a deep breath, seeming to collect himself before he began to speak.
“The night Voldemort attacked my parents, he was dead set on killing me because of the prophesy made that I would one day defeat him. My dad was killed first trying to give my mum time to run. But then Voldemort cornered her with me in her arms. He told her to step aside, that I was the only one that needed to die. She loved me so much that she refused, so he killed her. Now it was just me and him, but he didn’t know that I was now protected by something so powerful, he couldn’t touch me. His killing curse rebounded onto himself, and he only survived because of the pieces of soul he had hidden in objects outside of his body.
“The love she showed by sacrificing herself was now running through my veins, protecting me as long as I wasn’t of age and I could call my house home. It continued to protect me when I lived at my aunt’s house because she shared a direct blood relation with my mum, her sister. The moment I turned seventeen, it was done.”
The disgust building in Draco’s stomach was slowly melting to realization as he began to understand why Harry was telling him these horrible things about his past. He tried hard to remember the date of the night his mother died. Two days before his seventeenth birthday.
“Your mother did the same for you. You weren’t of age, and you could still call the Manor your home. He recognized it this time, and he didn’t try to stop you for fear of what happened at Godric’s Hollow happening again. He couldn’t touch you until you left your house for good.”
Draco’s head was now reeling. How could anyone be that lucky? Two days later and none of this would have happened; he would be dead. He would never have met Ginny. He would never have helped Harry defeat Voldemort. How much of a difference had he really made to the outcome of the war? Could it all have been done without him? Would Ginny still be with Harry now? Did Harry wish it had been two days later? Draco felt a stab of irrational jealousy before realizing that Harry Potter wasn’t that spiteful, just heartbroken.
This development brought about a new awareness: Their love for the same girl, orphaned, scarred by Voldemort’s reign, protected by the sacrifice of their mothers – it was uncanny how much they had in common due to circumstance. If they hadn’t been raised enemies, they might have been good friends. Draco suddenly remembered the time when they were two eleven-year-old boys, fresh off the Hogwarts Express, and he had extended an invitation of friendship to The Boy Who Lived. His father would have been so proud of his son, obtaining the fame of The Chosen One for their side.
“I guess Lady Luck took pity on us bloody saps,” Draco muttered as he dropped Harry’s intense stare, absently rubbing the bumpy scar beneath the sleeve of his shirt. He could feel that Harry’s eyes had not dropped.
“You know I’ll be waiting for you to botch it up. I’ll be waiting for her to come crying to me when you’ve broken her heart.”
The severity of Harry’s words, heavily weighted in warning, got Draco’s full attention and his icy grey orbs locked onto the emerald green.
“Trust me,” Draco growled through gritted teeth. “I’m the last one you have to worry about.”
Harry sneered. “Don’t try to deny it. We both know you’ll always be a Malfoy through and through. Take care of you and yours, that’s your family motto, right? Malfoy?”
The malice in Harry’s words was overdone, too cruel to fit. He was putting on the strong face again, and Draco wasn’t taking the bait.
“Are you always going to love her?” Draco asked quietly, still keeping his eyes locked with Harry’s.
“As long as her name is Ginevra Weasley,” Harry responded without missing a beat.
As the surname left his lips, Harry seemed to realize in that moment, evident by the devastation in his face as he broke eye contact to stare at his hands, that there was a situation in which that stipulation would most certainly become compromised. A public declaration of love, an exchange of a timeless symbol representing everlasting commitment, and the name Ginevra Weasley would be lost forever. The notion had crossed Draco’s mind more than once lately, and he had begun to long for it. The idea had also plagued Harry’s thoughts, ever since Ginny herself had brought up the subject to him mere minutes after he had returned alive the day of Voldemort’s downfall, and he dreaded the possibility as much as one would dread their own death if they knew which day it would come for them.
Draco knew a change in name wouldn’t change the way Harry felt, but it would certainly draw a clear and defined line as to whom Ginny’s heart belonged. Draco thought for a moment how the thought must tear at Harry from the inside, and for the first time he wondered how he would feel if it were him – if Ginny had chosen The Chosen One. He had refused to let his mind wander that far since the thought of her merely thinking about Harry drove him mad, and his breath became ragged as his throat constricted at the notion of this hypothetical possibility.
He felt something in his chest, like he was feeling sorry for the unfortunate bloke sitting across from him, knowing firsthand what Harry had been daft enough to let slip through his fingers, but it was more than that. Draco’s body suddenly felt numb at the surreal realization that he had been so close to losing everything if she had gone with the sensible choice: The hero, the savior. He needed to find her, to touch her and kiss her, to show his gratitude that she had chosen him, but that would have to wait for now.
“Listen, Potter,” Draco mumbled uncomfortably, looking back down at the table. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you, but you don’t need to worry about me hurting her. She’s the only reason I have a heart at all.”
Draco heard a long breath being released, but kept his eyes down.
“It’s only because you have her that I can’t get past how you’ve changed, Malfoy,” Harry muttered in a way that men speak to each other when talking about their feelings. “I’ve seen how happy she is with you, and I’ve seen how different you are with her, and I know she’s not coming back to me.”
Draco looked up to once again meet Harry’s gaze, and the look of defeat told him that Harry was done fighting – for now.
“I just want her to be happy,” Harry whispered, the emerald depths of his vibrant eyes writhing in torment.
Draco took a breath.
“If she’s ever anything but, you have my permission to curse my sorry arse to oblivion.”
Just then, Harry cracked a smile. There was nothing humorous about surrendering one’s love to another, but he couldn’t help but imagining sending Draco running for the hills with his hands covering his backside, and Harry running after him, delivering curse after relentless curse. The densest of blokes could see that the smile adorning the dark-haired boy’s face did not extend to his sorrowful eyes, but Draco was not about to question any bout of progress sent his way.
“You can count on it,” Harry answered, his smile widening.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“Harry birthday to you!
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday, dear Ginny!
Happy birthday to you!”
The warm chorus echoed across the grounds before a brief pause in which Ginny blew across the seventeen candles that adorned her large, homemade cake, and then a burst of applause erupted from the crowd.
As the family of Weasleys, Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy proceeded to dig into the delicious dessert, Ginny beamed as she took in each of their faces. Her heart was glowing with contentment; her entire family was together again, whole and happy.
Though the series of attacks carried out by the Death Eaters had taken the lives of many, the worst of their own devastation had been the destruction of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. With the boom of business Fred and George had received once they released their Shield clothing line, they had more than enough Galleons to commence the building of a bigger and better shop, as well as to give a little help to those in financial need that had also lost their shops in the Diagon Alley attack. The twins had taken to mail-orders and living at the Burrow for now, much to Draco’s utter delight every time he came to visit.
During the attack on the Ministry of Magic, Percy had happened to come to Mr. Weasley’s aid after finding him cornered by several Death Eaters at once. It was then that Percy realized, as he stunned the masked cowards in the back, that he couldn’t bear to lose any of his family on such bad terms. He had been desperately trying to make amends ever since.
With Bill and Fleur at Shell Cottage and Charlie being abroad during the attacks, all of Ginny’s family was safe and sound, and she couldn’t be happier.
A warm nuzzle where her earlobe met her chin brought her thoughts back to the present, and she turned to the fair-haired man sitting next to her to meet his lips for a quick I-can’t-kiss-you-like-I really-want-to-in-front-of-my-father kiss. Draco found her hand and stood from his chair, tugging her up as well.
“Come on, birthday girl. I haven’t given you your present yet,” he whispered in her ear as he walked her towards the line of trees that hid the open field where she used to play Quidditch with her brothers.
Once out of sight of her family, she stepped across his path to stop him, snaking her hands up his chest as she closed her eyes and tilted her chin upwards. He had already begun to meet her halfway, and their lips met hard, full of wanting. The sly looks of sultry desire she had been shooting his way whenever no one was looking had been driving him mad the entire day, as well as the way her hand kept happening to slide across his leg to his inner thigh ever so discreetly underneath the table. He punished her lips for it now, taking her face in his hands to pull her closer. There was nothing sweet about the way their mouths meshed together, grazing their teeth across skin and taking each other’s lower lip between teeth every now and again.
Though it took a great deal of concentration to keep his hands above her neck just this once for fear of where further wandering could lead to, Ginny’s hands had disappeared long ago beneath his shirt after first unbuttoning it in record time. He could feel her soft fingers exploring the curves of his chest, the beat of his heart, and he longed for that softness elsewhere. It was when her hands wandered further downward, now working at the buckle of his belt, that he felt a stirring that, though otherwise would have told him to keep going, now told him that it was time to stop. His hands released her face and flew down to clasp around hers as she went for the fly of his slacks.
“Bloody Merlin, Ginny, your family is right there!” he whispered fiercely, finally breaking contact with her ravaging mouth.
The pout that her flushed, red lips formed at this interruption was almost enough for him to give in.
“I thought you said you were going to give me my present,” she said, seeming genuinely confused.
Draco sighed, and then grinned. “I have a real present for you. What kind of cheap arse do you take me for?”
“But you promised for my birthday–”
Well, he had promised for her birthday, and bloody hell, it had taken so much self-control to get her to wait that long. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and then kissed her forehead.
“All in good time, love. Did you think for our first time I’d want to just shag you here on the wood’s floor fifty meters from your father and brothers?”
She looked thoughtful as she took in the bed of pine needles and dirt beneath her feet.
“We could Apparate to your flat,” she suggested, a flirtatious smile spreading across her face.
“Sorry, I don’t think I would survive the curses flying my way when I came back to return you.” Draco winked at her as he finished re-buttoning his shirt.
She nodded solemnly, and then closed her eyes as he pressed a kiss to each corner of her mouth before meeting her lips with his in a much softer way than before. Pulling back, he looked into her eyes to find her a little more composed, though not for lack of wanting. He knew it was time, and the stirring within him flared at the mere thought of what the night would bring; he knew she would sneak off to his place as she had all summer once her family was asleep.
“Now, for your real present,” he said with a sly smile, then reached into his pocket.
When he pulled out what looked like a small, black velvet box, Ginny’s eyes widened and she let out a quiet gasp.
“Wait,” he cautioned, then opened the hinged lid.
Lying against more black velvet, glowing white gold and glittering jewels stood out as if creating their own light against the ebony backdrop.
“Oh!” Her hand came up to her mouth in surprise, and the one syllable was all she seemed able to utter.
“This,” Draco started as he lifted the silvery chain and slipped the box back into his pocket, then came round behind Ginny, bringing each end of the necklace up around her neck, “was my mother’s. She told me once that every Malfoy woman that has ever worn it has found happiness with her true love and lived happily ever after. I was six at the time, but I know she would have wanted me to continue to pass it down.”
Linking the clasp, Draco then lifted her hair over the chain and kissed the back of her neck lightly. Ginny turned slowly to face him, her face skeptical.
“But I’m not a Malfoy woman,” she said pointedly, one hand lovingly covering the sapphire pendant surrounded in a circle of small diamonds.
Draco smirked. He had tested the waters, and had come to find that not only did she not abhor the idea of being his wife, but she also seemed a little annoyed that she wasn’t in the first place. Having watched her face carefully as he opened the velvet box, he saw the flash of disappointment flit across her face when she saw a necklace and not a ring, and he almost laughed out loud in relief.
“You will be,” he assured her before bringing her face to his once again.
Her heart glowed at the notion, and though she had become nearly desensitized to the thought of what Harry would think, she couldn’t help but allow her mind to wander briefly. His broken emerald eyes drifted into her thoughts, exactly as she remembered them the day she told him she loved someone else. She could feel the familiar twinge of guilt festering deep within her heart, waiting.
And then she pushed the memory from her mind. She had promised herself she was done feeling guilty for being happy. Instead, she turned her attention back to the lovely things Draco was doing with his tongue and imagined the day she would walk down the aisle and become a Malfoy.
Author notes: ::Sigh:: I enjoyed writing this fic so much, I'm so sad to see it end. This was my very first fanfiction project, and if you could only read the dribble that was the first draft of chapter 1, you'd appreciate how far I've come. I love all of you that made it all the way to this point. Thank you so much for reading and leaving your kind and encouraging words!
I plan to continue to write as the ideas come. I've written 3 one-shots that have yet to be beta'd, but look for them in the near future. The first will actually be a first person account of Harry's point of view of chapter 15 of this story, Behind Glassy Emeralds Lays a Broken Heart. Unfortunately, it doesn't feature Draco and Ginny, so it won't be on this site. I also have accounts on MNFF and HPFF, so look for my work on those sites as well, same Penname.
Update: The one-shot of chapter 15 is up on HPFF, here is the link: Here's to The Death of My Heart
As always, and for the last time for this fic, thank you for reading and please, please, please leave me a review!! :-)
The End.
CrystalM is the author of 3 other stories.
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This story is a favorite of 55 members. Members who liked Torn Between Ice and Emeralds also liked 1561 other stories.
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