CHAPTER 5

Silence is a text easy to misread.
-Author unknown



November 7th, 2003


“What a curious dress your grandmother is wearing,” Parkinson says. “I don't think I've ever seen anything like it. Is it is some local designer?”


“Why Ms Parkinson, I thought you knew everything about the newest designers!“ She opens her mouth but I cut her off. We both know the outfit she's talking about was not done by a designer at all. “And it's my mother, not grandmother. Speaking of which, didn't you bring a nanny for your grandmum? I think she's drooling again. Or maybe it's a by-product of her copious alcohol consumption?”


It figures that the Home Secretary's engagement party would be a grand affair. I think we have over four hundred guests, plus the press. The thing I hate the most is that even though the marriage is more or less a political move on my part, my family has made it their duty to attend.


It's not that I don't appreciate the support, I do. It's that none of them really feels comfortable here and neither do I. The rooms are too large, the decorations too glittering; the guests are dressed to the nines; the society photographers are milling around, blinding everybody with their flash lamps. This party is not for me, it's for the publicity, just like everything else in this marriage.


And now Parkinson's turned catty. At first I actually welcome that. Her veiled attacks at my appearance and family are predictable to the point of being pitiful. The only problem is that while giving her own back, I have to moderate my tone and smile as I do so. I manage.


The evening drags on and bickering with Pansy has turned old. Now I'm mostly concentrating on keeping my family apart from the various vultures (the press and the Pureblood Society people). Draco is by my side most of the time and at times I even find his company pleasant. At least it's nothing unusual or unpleasant. We talk, drift apart and come together again.


Then I notice a tense group of my parents, Parkinson and a lowly functionary of the Pureblood Society. I can see from my father's posture and mother's set lips that an uncomfortably loud scene is in the brewing. I put my glass on a passing tray and make a quick dash towards them, but I'm too late. My husband-to-be is already there and talking. I'm afraid that the yelling will reach me before I can reach them.


However, the first words I hear when I approach are Draco's. “- can't come to the wedding, but the needs must. If your aunt can't spare you, Pansy, it's naturally your first duty to visit her when she's so ill. And I especially regret that you can't stay for dinner this evening. Bernard will see you out.”


At these words an elderly elf appears with a quiet 'pop' and Parkinson says, “But I don't-”


“Bernard, see Ms Parkinson out. Good day and safe trip, Pansy.”


Draco's tone is calm, but his voice carries through the room, which suddenly seems rather quiet.


Flushed and embarrassed, Pansy lingers for a long couple of seconds, and then says meekly, “Good day to you too.”


No one says a word to her when she leaves.


“Wow,” I say quietly when the usual buzz has picked up again. “I love your Slytherin way of throwing people out.”


“I positively have no idea what you are talking about,” Draco says, but the smirk, so pointedly absent on his lips, is reflected in the glint of his eyes.


April 2nd, 2005


“Are you going to let me eat or not?” Draco's brought me breakfast in bed, but is now caressing my neck and shoulder and- “Hey, cut that out! I'm hungry.”


“Me too.” He smiles lazily.


I stare at him in amazement. “Who are you and what have you done to Draco Malfoy? If the Minister finds out they have a pod Foreign Secretary, I'll be the first one they investigate.”


“And a good thing too, since you are the one responsible.”


“Me?” I set the croissant back on the tray. “What have I done?”


Draco smirks. “You,” he says between kisses. “Are. Just. Being. Wonderful.”


“Uh-uh,” I say in bewilderment.


It's Sunday and Draco and I spend the day together. It has never happened before and it turns out to be wonderful too.


In the evening I Floo Harry. I think we need to clear the air, but I don't want Draco to know, so I Floo from my bedroom. We agree to meet in Diagon Alley at noon.


April 3rd, 2005


The next day I meet Harry over lunch in a small cafeteria near Diagon Alley. I spot him right away at one of the right-hand tables near the window.


“Harry.”


“Hi. I took you a latte. It's still your favourite, isn't it?”


“Yes. Yes, it is.”


I smile as I sit and then we look at each other quietly. Harry is as always the one who takes the bull by the horns.


“I hope I didn't make you too uncomfortable by bringing Sam.”


“No. You could have warned me though. Instead of alerting everyone else, including Draco.”


Harry frowns. “I didn't tell Draco anything. He knew?”


“He didn't tell me anything, if that's what you're thinking. I realised later that he must have. He was glued to me the whole evening; ready to intervene if start Merlin knows what.” I shudder and Harry smiles.


“I dunno, I thought that being glued to each other is kinda normal for you two.”


I frown. “Is it? But we've never been very touchy-feely. That's not that kind of a marriage, you know that.”


“Sorry about that by the way,” he says, not looking at me.


“About what?” I genuinely don't follow his train of thought.


“About how I reacted when you told us about the proposal. I...”


He trails off and I take pity on him. “I understand. I'm not saying it was okay, but I understand. And in the end, you were right; it was the best decision.”


“No, I...” He looks at me then and there's a deep remorse in his gaze. “I know I pushed you into that marriage. I know you were expecting me to back you up and I just... I lost my head and I'm sorry.”


I nod. “It's fine. At least now it is. Anyone would've done the same if they were you, I guess. And you didn't push me into it, not really. I knew what I was doing. It was my decision.”


“You said it was the best decision. Are you happy then? Or well, not like you are in love with him or anything, but considering... You look content most of the time. Are you, say, reasonably happy?”


“I think I am, actually.” I turn the cup around and around on the plate, just to busy my hands. “I'm not saying I'm really happy like... happy happy, but... I think I'll be fine.”


“And what he did to Nott? It doesn't bother you? I'm not saying it should, just...”


I'm still looking at my cup, but now I shake my head. For a moment everything goes blurry, although my eyes remain dry.


“You are ignoring it, aren't you, Ginny?” Harry's words are quiet and gentle. “Just like for years you ignored the fact that there would never be an 'us'?” He covers my hand with his. “You can't just ignore what he is, Gin. I'm not saying that what Malfoy did is unforgivable. Personally, I'm more concerned that you're married to a politician who doesn't seem to care about ruining Britain's economical and social structures. But killing another Death Eater? It seems quite low-key under the circumstances.”


I know Harry's right. I've been thinking exactly the same thing, but what I hate the most is how little all my friends and family must think of Draco. For a politician that's ruining our country, killing a man is, naturally, par for the course.


“I mean, they fought, right?” Harry goes on. “And it was Malfoy or Nott, so he probably didn't have much of a choice. He killed a man, but so have I. And your father and Ron, and a lot of other good people.”


“I know,” I say, as I pull my hand away from his and take his right hand into both of mine. “I...” I look at him but I can't continue.


“Ginny, you have to face it sooner or later. You are married to him, for Christ's sake! You have to decide if you can accept him as he is or not, or it will tear you up inside.”


For a while we just sit there and finish our drinks.


“I want you to be happy, Harry. That's why I wanted to see you today. To tell you to be happy and that I'm sorry for slapping Madison, or whatever her name was.” I shrug, smile a little and somehow the memory now seems too funny not to laugh. The best part is that Harry laughs too.


“Madeline. But thank you. It means a lot,” he says, accepting my ignoring the Draco issue yet again.


“And I want you to know that I think... No. I'm definitely not in love with you anymore. So as far as I'm concerned, you're safe.”


We grin at each other. At that moment I feel as if friendship between us is possible and even probable. I hug him before I leave.


O*O*O


The warm breeze turns to cold wind, and then into a full gale sometime during supper.


To start with, my husband responds in monosyllabic words and doesn't look me in the eye. He's clearly brassed off about something. Even though he was perfectly congenial just this morning, at first I'm not seriously perturbed. Draco has turned the hot-cold schizophrenia into an art form. So we eat.


Soon though, I notice all the signs of Draco wanting to talk about something, but not knowing how to approach the subject. He's shooting me those careful glances, his posture stiff and his entire demeanour unrelenting. His movements are very precise; he's cutting his pork as carefully and precisely as if he's planning on sewing it back together and reviving the pig later.


After a while, I cannot hold myself back any more.


“What?” I demand, exasperated.


Slowly he finishes chewing and swallows. Then he takes a drink, savours the taste before swallowing that too, and finally asks with skilfully crafted calm, “How was your day?”


“Fine. But that's not what you really want to know, is it?”


“Very busy?”


“Exhaustingly.”


“Did you have a chance to get a bite during the day?” he continues.


The fog of suspense is getting thicker and I'm starting to get an inkling that the approaching maelstrom might actually be blowing my way.


“Lunch? Yes, actually, I ate sandwiches at some point. Eve was kind enough to bring me some. Draco-”


“And how's Potter?”


And just like that the lull has turned into a whirlwind.


“What?”


“Do you deny meeting him?” His voice has that maddeningly detached quality to it again. It betrays no emotion whatsoever and I hate it.


For a second I can just gape like a total fool. “Why would I?” I reply angrily. “I didn't do anything wrong!”


“Didn't you?”


Since his tone is flat, I don't answer. It's clearly not expected. Instead, I assume that indignant pose my mom is really good at, but either I'm crap at it or Draco's totally unmovable. In any case, it doesn't work.


“No,” I finally say. “I didn't. We were just talking.”


“And the lying about not having time to eat with me?”


I feel the hotness spread all over my face. “We were just talking,” I repeat stubbornly.


Draco nods and continues eating. “I believe you. It's fine.”


Like hell it is! It's clear from the way he breathes that he's livid.


“All right. So maybe I should have told you I was meeting him. I just didn't think you'd understand.”


“You were right. I don't.”


“Draco.” I let out a deep breath. “I just wanted to tell him that I was fine with him and Sam, nothing more. I was there for half an hour; I didn't even eat lunch with him. It was just a coffee between friends.” At this point I'm still trying to calm things down.


“I see. Do you often hold hands with your friends?”


“What? You spied on me? Wait! How did you even find out I was meeting him?”


For a long minute he's eating without answering, as if punishing me with his silence. But I can guess that he's either too furious to speak or he's not sure what to reveal.


“Occasionally, I need to eat too,” he finally says more or less steadily. “And you know how I hate the Ministry's cafeteria. Polyjuiced as always, I went out for a bite and what. Do. I. See! My wife, who's claimed having no time to eat with me, has sneaked out to see a friend she'd been mooning over for a decade! Of course I bloody spied!” He almost growls the last part.


“I didn't sneak,” I say quietly.


“I don't care if you alerted the Prophet. You didn't tell me and you held. His. Hand. And hugged him. Publicly.” Draco is almost spitting by the time he finishes speaking. Then he seems to calm himself down somewhat and resumes eating. “I thought we'd agreed to tell each other before taking any lovers.”


“Harry and I are not lovers!” I exclaim, appalled by the suggestion and getting angry again. “Why are you so upset? You know I don't have any lovers and if I had, it wouldn't be Harry.”


Draco smirks unpleasantly. “Of course.” He nods in what could only be malicious satisfaction. “Potter is not interested in you, and even if he were, he'd never do something quite so amoral like carrying on with a married woman.”


“And you think I would do that? Cheat on you?”


He answers in the expressive way of not reacting outwardly, which I interpret as 'yes'. It hurts on so many different levels I can't even begin to sort everything out, so for a moment I just sit there without saying anything.


“Why do you even care,” I finally mutter. “You're still mooning over your Astoria, aren't you?”


There's a brief pause before Draco asks, “Does it matter? That I 'moon over her' as you so eloquently put it?”


I laugh derisively. “Why would it? It's not like I even like you!”


Draco's nostrils flare and he breathes heavily.


“Mutual. You have my leave to do what you will as long as you're discreet. In fact, you don't even have to tell me when you've succeeded in luring some miserable chap into bed with you.” He leans in over the table. “Do. Whatever. You. Want.”


With these words he marches out.


April 7th, 2005


I give him time to cool off and for almost two days I'm absolutely miserable. The only consolation is that Draco looks miserable too, so he probably hasn't taken on a lover either. (Yes, I'm obsessed with the idea, I know.) Since I only see him three times during that time, I presume he spends most of his days at the Ministry. Hopefully.


So I decide to wait until tomorrow before confronting him, but through all this waiting the most singularly terrible thing happens. It's so terrible that I forget to close my mouth. The chocolate mousse is dribbling down my chin, because suddenly I realise that I’ve fallen in love with my husband! And somehow only a miserably tiny part of me is surprised. I think I've known it for some time now; I just didn't want to acknowledge the fact.


I put the spoon on the bedside table and wipe my chin. For the next couple of hours I ignore the paperwork I was supposed to do yesterday and start impersonating a caged animal, pacing back and forth in my bedroom. Occasionally, I venture out into the halls to listen if Draco has per chance come back home for some indecipherable reason.


For the next day and a half I sit on the second floor patio doing the paperwork I’ve been neglecting. The fact that the parlour overlooks the front lawn and is connected to the main hall only by a door opening and a short corridor has nothing to do with it. And I’m not spying on the object of my affections from behind the flowerpots and over the railings! I’m just constantly forgetting things in my study. And other rooms.


April 9th, 2005


I’ve told the house elves to notify me of Draco’s comings and goings. Yes, yes, I know I’m pathetic, but it doesn’t change the irrefutable fact that I’ve also received the Order of Moron, First Class by falling for Draco Selfish Arse Malfoy, the World's Biggest Git titleholder several years running. So it’s just my way of coping and there’s nothing weird about that!


When I'm finally heading towards his bedroom one evening, I'm pretty sure I'm going to manage keeping these unwanted revelations to myself. What good could telling him possibly do? Even though the idea of my cheating seemed to hurt him, I’m pretty sure it’s no more than hurt pride. Draco's always been touchy in regards to Harry, so no point giving him any more power over me than he already has. Right? Right.


I know that it's very late and Draco's most probably exhausted after a long day, but there are things he needs to hear and I don't want to put it off any more. I deny him the chance of refusing me by not knocking. When I open his bedroom door, he's in the middle of removing his shirt. Hesitantly I step in the middle of the room and blurt without any preamble, “I'm sorry I lied to you.”


Draco freezes with his profile to me and I quickly continue to halt any objections he might have.


“I shouldn't have done it and I understand why you were upset. Nevertheless, you must know that there's nothing between Harry and me.”


After a short pause Draco continues unbuttoning his shirt, turns to me and says, “I know. I'm sorry too. I was being an arse.” He reaches for my hand and without any conscious consent on my part, I step closer to him. When we're sitting on his bed, he continues, “I appreciate you apologising, Ginevra, but you don't really have to. I know you love Potter. I've made my peace with that.”


His words make me gape at him. For a moment I cannot say a word.


“But Draco, I-”


“It's fine. We can't choose who we love, I know that. Just don't do anything behind my back, all right?”


He says all of it calmly as if he doesn't care, but somehow I still know that he does and that he's hurting.


I grab his hand into both of mine. “No, Draco. No. I...” I have no idea what to say. How do I say it? “I'm not in love with Harry. Haven't been for a long time.”


Very slowly he raises his eyes to mine. “No?”


“No.”


There's a pause while we just look at each other.


“Good.” He smiles a little. There's a light in his gaze I don't think I've ever seen before, and it makes me timid and for some silly reason, hopeful. What he says next takes me totally by surprise.


“I'm not in love with Astoria either,” he says quietly. “Haven't been for a very long time.”


After opening and closing my mouth several times I ask, “You don't love her? But what about that time at the Applebee Anniversary Ball? I saw how you looked at her! I almost felt the regret I saw in your look.”


Draco shakes his head slowly, as if trying to remember the event I'm talking about.


“I barely remember the evening at the Applebee's.” He shrugged. “Perhaps I did look at her with regret. I won't deny I have regretted that I wasn't able to love her enough. Or she, me. Life would've been so much easier. Were you jealous?”


He sounds like he's teasing, but we both know that he isn't, so I make sure I'm looking him in the eye when I say, “Yes. I think I was a bit.” An unseen force is tugging at Draco's lips and he hugs me. I bet he doesn't want me to see his goofy smile and that's fine. My smile must be a little silly too.


I can't help but continue, “You remember the first time we discussed the possibility of marriage? You said that we might learn to appreciate each other? I think I can now safely admit that I have. Learned to appreciate you.” I smile. “But just a little.”


Draco hugs me even tighter, and hides his face in my hair as he whispers back, “I appreciate you, too.”


April 15th, 2005


I haven't slept in my own bed for a week. It feels wonderful. It's like a second honeymoon, only better. We 'appreciate' each other now. We're using this word on every possible occasion and smile when we do. It means more to us both; I just know it.


When I come home this evening, I'm giddy as a schoolgirl. But as I step into the dining room, the smells hit me like a bludger to a solar plexus and a terror only known to mothers grips my whole being. I stand there for a beat and then I'm running towards the bathroom.


I feel grateful that Draco isn't home yet. I have no idea how to tell him. In the end I decide not to decide anything. I go to bed early and fall asleep before Draco returns. It's already morning when I realise that I've slept alone. I see my husband at the breakfast table, where I feel sick again.


“Why don't you ever come to my bed?” I ask him rather sharply.


Draco is, once again, wearing his calm and composed mask.


“I didn't know I was welcome.”


“Bull! You're just an arrogant prig who thinks that the word 'wife' is a fancy euphemism for a 'servant' and a 'courtesan'!”


I put my cup down with a clatter and Draco frowns.


“What's the matter?” he asks, and suddenly I see that he's not angry at all, but concerned.


Tears well up in my eyes.


“Gin!” He stands up and comes up to my chair. “What's wrong?”


But I can't answer. I put my arms around his waist and sob into his shirt.


“Is it something I did? Why did you go to your own room last night? I'm sorry if you waited for me there, I just never know if I'm welcome when you close your door on me.”


His words only make me cry harder. Draco strokes my hair and my back, uttering all those hushes, there-theres and it's-alrights that are customary in the situations like this. I bet he feels really silly.


After a while I mutter into his shirt, “We should both move into the master bedroom.”


Before I start fretting about being too forward, he says, “I'd love that.” I can hear a smile in his words. “I'm sorry, I didn't realise you wanted me to come to your room yesterday.”


But I shake my head.


“It's not that,” I tell him. “I'm pregnant.”


Draco stills for a moment and then presses his lips to my hair.






TBC

Author notes: Thank you for reading. The last chapter is in work and a miracle has happened - there's a sequel in my brain! LOL, who would've thought? Certainly not me! :)
The last chapter is with my betas right now. I'm not really sure when it's going to be totally ready, since one of them tends to take her time, but I love her anyway. Anyway, let me know how I did on the 5th chapter and what do you think will happen next? Is there anything you want to happen? ;)

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