♥ "Death Will Tremble (To Take Us)" for Astraea 2/2 ♥
Title: Death Will Tremble (To Take Us) 2/2
Rating: PG 13
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Some angst
Author's Notes: I hope you guys like it! :) This is my first fanfic in 4, 5 years so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
Summary: Strange dreams plague Ginny, making her realise that there's more to Draco Malfoy than she knows, that love can indeed span centuries, and that death is never final.
Death Will Tremble (To Take Us) Part 1/2
Death Will Tremble (To Take Us) 2/2
*
If there’s anything I’ve learnt, it’s that there’s no substitute for love. But, when in need, Chocolate Frogs and copious amounts of Firewhisky is close as hell as it can get. Being in love with you is starting to make me into somewhat of an alcoholic.
I did warn you that I was unhealthy for you. But you never listen, do you?
*
Since then, Ginny spent countless nights and free time in the library, finding out everything she could about dreams and souls. It was akin to searching for a needle in a bloody haystack, and on top of that, she had to contend with her sixth year exams that were quickly approaching. Sometimes Hermione would join her as well, frenziedly preparing for her N.E.W.Ts; soon enough, they rarely left the library at all, and the table by the windows overlooking the school grounds was as good as theirs.
She was spending so much time with Hermione, it came as no surprise that she eventually fell asleep while studying one day, and woke up mid-groan with a visibly worried Hermione roughly shaking her awake.
“A-are you all right?” Hermione asked, uncharacteristically fazed. “You sounded like you were in horrible pain.”
“’S nothing. Just a bad dream.”
“What kind of bad dream?” Her tone was steadier, sharper now.
Ginny muttered, “I dreamt I died.” Which wasn’t entirely the truth, but wasn’t a lie either.
“We are going to Madam Pomfrey for some Dreamless Draught later. And no, don’t argue with me,” her friend snaps before Ginny can even protest. “I know something has been troubling you for a long time, and if this is it, I must insist on you getting help. So, these dreams are important then?”
She tried for condescending. “N-no… Merlin, everybody dreams, Hermione! These are just regular nightmares everyone has once in a while. I don’t see you complaining about Harry’s.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “So regular dreams have you raiding the Restricted Section for books on dreams and souls?” When Ginny only silently shifted in her seat, she sighed, “You can tell me anything, you know. I won’t tell a soul if you don’t want me to.”
“I know,” whispered Ginny miserably.
So she told Hermione. It started out as an unsteady stream of awkward fumbling sentences at first, and then gave way to torrents of explanation, description, feelings… It came out of her like a flood, and then it was over, her chest felt lighter freer. It was then she realised how undeniably exhausted she was.
Ginny sighed. “I miss him. We had… something. But he’s not very happy with me and it’d be unfair to him to tell him about these dreams and I won’t allow something bad to happen to him because of me. So.”
“So,” Hermione begun cautiously, the queerest look on her face - as though she was seeing Ginny for the first time. “Basically, you can’t be together or you’ll both die?”
“Unfortunately,” said Ginny miserably. “From what I know, the dreams are either a foreshadowing of something bad about to happen, or -”
“Or you guys have been trying to be together for centuries but it always ends tragically? And due to the pure tenacity - synonym for idiocy, by the way - both your souls refuse to go wherever it is souls go and end up back here searching for each other for another lifetime?” Hermione heaved a sigh in obvious frustration. “I’ve read all about it in books: very old magic, reincarnation, old souls with a love strong enough to rival death… But to see it actually happening…”
“History will only repeat itself when we do find each other...”
There was quiet for a moment, almost peaceful and contemplative, and then Hermione blinked. “Wow, so Malfoy, huh? Can’t say I envy you.”
“Hmm.”
“Hardly surprisingly, too. If any two people were so meant to be, complete with the cosmic jokes on your life and all, it’d Malfoy and you.”
“… w-what?”
“I’m not blind, Gin,” said Hermione, levelling a glare at her. “It may have gone unnoticed with Harry and Ron, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and you at him. It’s… kind of unnerving, to be honest. Like you both are irrevocably lost in the worlds in each other’s eyes, and you’d always belong to each other no matter what happens. It’s weird when things like that happen out of books.”
Ginny smiled wanly.
“Makes me actually want to stab my eyes out sometimes.”
“Oh come on, it’s not like we were caught in flagrante delicto,” protested Ginny.
Hermione scowled. “And thank you for putting the image of a naked Malfoy in my head. Bloody fantastic.”
It was hard not to laugh now. “Oh wouldn’t dear Ronald be so displeased.”
Their struggle to maintain impassive expressions only lasted for a few seconds before they both roared with laughter, hearty and cleansing. Hermione was still in a fit of giggles till the very end, and Ginny - Ginny, for the first time in months, laughed with her heart. It was painful and it made her tear endlessly but it was undeniably real.
The next few weeks were easier on Ginny. She spent all her time with Hermione in the library, either working on their exams or trying to find out more about the dreams and souls. On the few occasions when she took a break, she found herself up at the Owlery, hastily scribbling words before she would find the sense to throw them away.
Dear Draco, it has been a while.
Dear Draco, all the best for your N.E.W.Ts!
Draco, how are you? I hope the Slytherins have stopped giving you a hard time.
I miss you, Draco.
I miss you, Draco, and I think ‘miss’ is understating it.
At the last one, she swore, threw it in the fire, and watching the fire consume her words into black curling ash. Maybe they would fare better in their next lives - at least she had that to look forward to. Ginny laughed to herself then, mocking and bitter and tired. She was fine without him. She had to be. So he would live. They had to be fine without each other.
She had told Hermione the very same thing. “I’m fine without him,” Ginny said resolutely. “I can survive without him.”
Her friend had only arched a brow. “But surviving is not living, is it?”
“It’d be selfish of me to go to him when I know what will happen. I can’t do that. Not to him.”
“He’s not going to die, Gin. And that goes for you as well. There must be a way to solve this and we’ll find it. And then you can have your happily ever after with the ferret. Urgh. We just need to find the right book.” Hermione squeezed her hand tightly, drawing Ginny into a hug. “Trust me. We’ll stop this somehow.”
There was nothing left for Ginny to say. And if anyone had a chance of outsmarting the odds, she knew it would be Hermione Granger. “Okay.”
*
You being healthy and happy was always more important than you loving me back.
*
Countless late nights of studying and researching bled together, and soon Ginny found herself in the Hogwarts Express munching on countless Chocolate Frogs as she half-listened to Harry ramble on about the Aurors. Now that school was over for them, they’d planned to join the Aurors to build up their army against Voldemort’s rising forces. There was a storm on the horizon, and everyone knew it.
Exams were over, school was over - it was time to let go of everything. That morning, she’d had watched him during breakfast, she watched him get onto the train; she had committed every single nuance of him to memory. His almost-smiles, the moons and worlds in his eyes, the sound of his laugh, even the nonchalant way he gracefully stepped onto the train despite all the stares. She knew it was the last time she would ever see him. In this lifetime, at least.
It had been a long time since they had spoken, and she was almost surprised to realise that what she felt for Draco Malfoy had not faltered at all. But that epiphany didn’t changed things though. It changed nothing at all.
“Giiiiinnnn,” came Ron, waving his arms before her face. “Are you even here with us?”
“What?” Ginny was startled back into reality.
“Oh sit down, Ronald. Let your sister breathe,” said Hermione crossly. “She’s tired, that’s all. As I am as well, having to deal with you all the time.”
“What do you mean by having to deal with me?” Ron snorted, evidently insulted.
As Hermione and Ron bickered on, Ginny shifted in her seat, turning to face the window. Harry was watching her intently, and it discomfited her.
“I’m going to the loo,” she announced, standing up. She forced herself not to run out of the compartment, with Harry’s eyes following her all the way.
Ginny managed to make it through the rest of the journey without speaking to anyone. When she was at last back home in her own room, she heaved a sigh and flopped onto her bed. She stayed like that for hours, watching the first rays of sunset filter through her window to dance along her ceiling in delightful patterns, till the last beam disappeared and all was dim.
Her first week at the Burrow passed in this manner. She did quiet, calming things: knitting, reading, watching the grass sway in the breeze. It was in the third week did she venture outdoors, playing a relaxing game of Quidditch on her own or taking in a walk in the small forest by her house. The house was quiet now, with everyone save Molly and her aiding Harry in the war against Voldemort. Of course, she wasn’t allowed to help because it was too dangerous, and that was immensely frustrating. During all the time she had for introspection, she often wondered if it was worst fighting in the war, or having to stay behind and worrying about the people fighting in the war. She hated feeling this helpless.
It was only well into the second month one evening when something out of the ordinary happened. Ginny was rearranging the postcards on her wall when there was a knock on the front door. The house was so quiet that single knock resounded through the house. No one of the family knocked, so she knew it’d be something of importance. Immediately, she dropped her postcards and bounded downstairs just in time to hear a loud thud like something slumping against the door.
“Who is it?” Molly asked, coming out of the kitchen and wiping her hands on her apron.
There were countless protective enchantments surrounding the house, so this could not have been someone unauthorised. Ginny shrugged in answer, and opened the door. The stranger slipped to the ground, and as he clutched at himself, his black cloak slipped back to reveal the eyes she had dreamt about and never thought she’d see again. Except now those eyes were watering in pain and there was a faint metallic scent of blood in the air.
“Draco?” Her voice was a strangled gasp. “Merlin.”
“Take in him, dear,” Molly instructed. “Put him on the couch.”
“What’s he doing here?” She asked, feeling a rolling nauseous feeling in her stomach.
“The poor boy’s bleeding, Ginevra. We can ask questions later.”
Bloody hell. She was half-convinced that this was one of her dreams. Taking out her wand, she levitated him over to the couch, tucking him in properly when his long limbs stuck out all over. She made him show her his wounds, and struggled not to flinch when they were revealed to be raw and bleeding profusely.
“I didn’t suffer all those months for you to die anyway,” she whispered brokenly to herself, trying to keep the horror out of her voice. “W-what happened?”
When he laughed, with blood trickling down the corner of his lips, she was sure she was dreaming. “Father found my hide-out. Showed me how displeased he was for having such a disappointing son.”
Before she had the chance to reply, her mother bustled over with some warm water and a towel. “Your father’s on the way home. You’re better than me at healing spells, Gin, you do what you can.”
Her mother left. Trying to still her shaking hands and her shuddering breaths, she cast various healing spells over him, sighing in relief when the ugly bruises disappeared and the gaping wounds on his chest improved to shallower gashes. Turning him over, she did the same for his back. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t get the wounds to close completely; Lucius was evidently an adept torturer. She took the damp towel, cleaning the blood off him gently and then wrapping his injuries in bandages - all the while ignoring the way his silver eyes never left her face. Reaching for his face then, she wiped the blood, dirt and sweat away, her hands unwittingly lingering on his cheeks, his jaw, his lips. His eyes flickered shut at her touch.
She cleared her throat. “Come on,” she muttered somewhat brusquely. “Can you walk to the guest room or do I have to levitate you again?”
Even after being tortured half to death, Draco still managed to muster up a convincing condescending look. She ended up half-carrying him all the way to the guest room. It was easier than she’d expected, for he was thinner and gaunter than ever. Once she tucked him under the covers, she retreated instantly, hovering at the door.
“Umm, get some sleep. I’ll check on you later.” With that, she fled.
Ginny found her mother in the kitchen, cooking dinner like a half-dead Malfoy hadn’t almost fainted on her doorstep. “Mum?”
“How’s Draco, dear?”
“Sleeping, I should think.”
She waited for her mother to say something, but she said nothing. “Am I missing something? That’s Malfoy sleeping in our guest room. I thought you’d… disapprove, at least.”
Her mother sighed. “Albus told us about him a few months ago. Said that if he ever asked for it, we were to take him in and protect him as one of the Order. Naturally we were all curious, and then he told us what the poor boy had to sacrifice. He was disowned, did you know? He had no place to go because he refused the Dark Mark. Of course he was safe at Hogwarts, but once he graduated… Still, he refused Albus’ many offers of assistance and managed to hide away from the Death Eaters. Until now. They don’t take very kindly to traitors.”
“Professor Dumbledore knew about it?”
“Albus knows about everything that goes on in Hogwarts, dear.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“You didn’t ask, Gin.” Her mother frowned, studying her too closely for her liking. “I didn’t know you and Draco knew each other…”
“Mum! We had detention together, that’s all.”
“Ah,” said her mother, the corners of her lips twitching like she was suppressing a smile. “Take some food up to Draco, will you? Poor boy must be starving! Did you see how bony he was? Make sure he finishes everything on the tray, dear.”
She trudged up the stairs, hoping Draco would be asleep by now. She peeked through the gap in the door, the door creaked, and luminous eyes swivelled onto her. Doing her best to avoid eye contact, she laid the tray on the bedside table.
“Are you hungry?”
He shook his head.
“Do you want some water?” She asked, gesturing to the glass of water on the tray.
Another shake of his head.
“Right,” she muttered awkwardly. “The tray is there is you need them. Call out if you need anything else. I’ll, umm, be off now.”
“Don’t go,” he rasped weakly.
Ginny smiled at him, soft and sad. “I think it’s best if I go.”
“P-please.”
“You didn’t need me then, you won’t need me now.” She hated herself for bringing up the past. But it needed to be said.
“Gin.”
Just her name. Just her name and she found herself sitting on the edge of his bed, taking his hand in hers. He had never said her name before - not that that, at least. “I’m here, Draco.”
His eyes closed and he sighed, as though finally content. “You are wrong. I always needed you.”
“I am sorry,” she whispered into the darkness. It was difficult and the words had the weight of worlds, but she forced them out of her throat anyway. I am sorry, for everything.
He stared at her for long seconds. “Don’t be,” said Draco at last. “It wasn’t your fault. I wasn’t mad at you. I probably should have replied to your letter.”
“Why didn’t you? I was… worried.”
“I was afraid. Of many things. Mainly, I was afraid for you. You have died for me so many times, I couldn’t let you do it again...”
This would have sounded like rambling from a delirious patient, but Ginny knew better. “You knew? About the past, about the dreams?”
A tight nod.
“But it took me months! And even then I barely found anything in the Restricted Section!”
He chuckled weakly. “Let’s just say that I’m privy to more extensive libraries than the Restriction Section.”
“Oh, sod off.”
“Is this any way to show your gratitude and affection for a dying man?”
Rather than snort and mutter something sarcastic in reply, she stopped thinking, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Something warm pulsed in her, and the hole in her heart the shape of him ceased to exist, and she was made whole again. Her heart thrummed, but at the same time, she had never felt such peace. “Is that better?” She murmured against his skin.
“Much.”
She walked over to the door and paused. “Goodnight, Draco.”
He only closed his eyes and grunted in response.
Ginny watched him sleep for a few minutes, and then she closed the door. She smiled to herself all the way till she was in her bed, gazing up at the ceiling. “Thank you,” she whispered to the night sky, to the stars, to the moon, to whatever that brought him back to her.
*
I’d rather have sixty-two minutes of stolen time with you, then the world at my feet with anyone else.
*
They lasted three days without bickering.
On the third day, at breakfast, he stole her juice when he finished his own. In return, she stole the last piece of ham on his plate, earning herself a glare from her mother - while Molly heaped more food on his plate. She hated the smug smile he shot her. Then they went outdoors for a game of Quidditch and he hogged the Quaffle most of the time. She hated the way he showed off, and how he was still recovering so she could not inflict bodily harm on him. When she tried to read later that afternoon, he snatched the book away from her and insisted that she should talk to him because he was bored. She hated how he knew she’d give in when he gave her his best pleading look (the look that, many years before, had Narcissa Malfoy caving in to his every whim and fancy).
So she told him. “I hate you, Draco Malfoy.”
“You’re immensely annoying yourself,” he promptly informed her. “You stole my ham, you sulked because you don’t like the way I play Quidditch, and you ignored me in favour of your silly book.”
Ginny stalked off to fly on her own, practising the most complicated moves to take her mind off the most infuriating person she ever had the misfortune to meet.
This time, they lasted precisely three hours and thirty minutes without talking to each other.
During dinner, he gave her the last of his chicken (his favourite), and she gave him the last of her potatoes (her favourite) and that was that, there was peace on earth. They then ignored the strangely beaming Molly and oblivious Arthur to share a slice of chocolate cake (both their favourites) as dessert, and the day’s argument was all history.
But, as they say, history repeats itself. And so the next few weeks lasted in this manner. Despite the bickering, it all ended the same way: with a shared chocolate cake, or a stroll through the forest, or creeping up to the roof to watch the stars, or, as it happened once, a very passionate kiss that was interrupted when Ginny almost slipped out of the window.
Which led to another argument:
“If you hadn’t crushed me to the wall so tightly, I wouldn’t have almost slipped out!” Ginny hissed.
“Are you lecturing me on how to snog you?” Draco asked incredulously.
This argument ended in Ginny crushing him to the wall and silencing him with her mouth. It was like the dungeons all over again, except this had no real anger in it and his lips were soft and sweetly bruising against hers, sealing over her own mouth like she was his air and he needed to breathe her in and make her a part of himself. She kissed his eyelids, his cheeks, his neck I love you I love you I love you so hard I could crush you with my love and held him as close as she could to her trembling heart.
When they were lying side by side later that night, the silence that reigned rang with contentment and peace. Peace.
“When I refused the Dark Mark, I never saw this as my future. This proves I made the right decision, after all.” Draco spoke quietly into the dark, his arm warm around her.
“So you only believe what I say after I snog you?” Ginny complained playfully. “So if I snog you and tell you what an annoying sod you are, would you truly believe me?”
He gave her an impatient look. “I’m trying to be serious here.”
“All right, all right. I’m all ears. So. What made you decide not to? Take the Dark Mark, I mean.”
“Many things… But there was this once, I was out late walking along the streets. Bellatrix and Lucius were arguing again, so I didn’t want to go back. It was cold and I didn’t have a coat. I huddled up on this bench, and out of nowhere, this homeless Muggle tells me ‘This is my bench but there’s room for you if you don’t snore’ and he let me have his coat, even though I didn’t want it. And he could have been frozen from the cold. I stayed there till dawn and I went back to the manor never able to do the Cruciatus Curse properly again. Bella used to tell me I had a talent for it, that being a Death Eater was what I was born for. But I became useless at all the Unforgivable Curses and it went downhill from there.”
Ginny shivered, and she told herself it was because it was a chilly night. So she burrowed deeper into Draco’s arms. “Did you use the Unforgivable Curses on people a lot?”
“When the Dark Lord demanded it. Which was frequent, I suppose.”
“Were you very good at them?”
“One of the best.” His voice was chilling, as hard and sharp as ice. “My father was never more proud. They said I was born for it. Born to serve the Dark Lord, born to torture and maim.”
“They were wrong and you know they are wrong,” said Ginny firmly, lifting her head out of his arms to look at him in the eye resolutely. What she saw in his pale eyes was not Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, son of the Death Eater. What she saw was all Draco, just Draco, all hers - every broken, devastating, beautiful bit. “You were born to be mine.”
“Am I?” He asked lightly, his casual tone hiding the tremor of desperation beneath. “You’re just saying that because I snogged you senseless.”
She ignored the veneer of snark. “As I am yours.”
“You’re definitely senseless then,” said Draco, but he smiled and nuzzled her cheek. At length, he went on, “You know, Dumbledore knows about us. After realising you could have been in danger from spending the detentions with me, I went straight to him for help. Novel experience, asking someone for help... But his advice, on you and other matters, really did straighten out my affairs.”
“He advised you not to see me?”
“It was the only logical solution,” he shrugged. “And he assured me it was temporary. He knew a great many things on old souls and magic, but a solution to something as arcane as this needed time and expertise.”
“Hermione has been helping me look for answers too, but so far, nothing.” Ginny groaned, “What are we going to do? Especially now that you’re here… It would be easier if we stayed away from each other.”
“To be honest, I doubt it’d be easier. Could you stay away from me now?”
“I can’t,” Ginny grumbled into his skin as she pulled him closer. “Why why why.”
“Because I’m irresistible,” he said, and she sensed his smirk in the dim lights.
All of a sudden, a vague shadow swooped past her window and there was a loud thud that spoke of something landing. Loud booming noises resounded around the house and she heard something shudder under the attack.
Ginny jumped out of the bed. “Something’s wrong.”
Draco was already sticking his head out of the window. “Oh, dear fuck.”
She pulled him away from the window and into the living room downstairs, just in time to see Molly and Arthur coming down in the midst of another rumbling groan from above. “Mum, Dad, what’s going on?”
Arthur’s face was drawn as he spoke. “The protective enchantments protecting our house are being… attacked. They were cast by Albus himself, so they should hold. But in the event they are breached, we would have no choice but to Floo to Grimmauld Place.”
“Arthur, we can’t stay till they’re breached!” Molly cried. “We have to leave now before it happens!”
“Albus cast it himself. Have faith, dear. I have called the Order, they are coming.” His tone was calm, but his expression strained. He already had his wand ready by this side.
Molly pulled him aside, speaking in a loud agitated whisper that could still be heard. “Ginny is here. Draco, too. We cannot risk them, dear.”
Draco spoke for the first time since they came downstairs. “I’m going out.”
“No dear, you are not. You are coming to Grimmauld Place with us. It’s very secure.”
“I can’t.” His face was paler than usual, and there was a hardness to his expression that scared Ginny. “Gin, you go with your parents. I have to stay. I saw them. It’s my father and aunt out there.”
“But -”
“It’s my father and aunt.” His tone sounded like it could command armies; harsh and brooked no argument. “I have to stay.”
Ginny didn’t care. “I’m staying with you then.”
He cast her an impassive expression, clearly not caring about her protests. Before she could say or do anything else, he strode out of the front door. Ginny stood there, fists clenched at her sides; it seemed like an eternity before she could move her legs to go after him.
“Ginevra!” Her mother cried then, holding her back. “Listen to Draco, honey. Come with us. He wants you to be safe. He loves you.”
“That’s precisely why I can’t leave him! Mum, please. I know what I’m doing. Please. Trust me,” she implored.
Molly’s hands loosened slightly on her shoulders. “Gin -”
Ginny took the chance to twist out of her grip, and with a last look at her parents, she ran to the kitchen and out the backdoor. She saw several shadows flitting in the darkness, lurking just outside the protective boundaries. But that was not what she came for. Casting all the cloaking spells she knew on herself, she hoped her impromptu plan of subterfuge would work.
It was dark and the cloaking spells she had should hide her well enough. She moved along the house, and the shadows didn’t seem to notice. She crept straight out through the protective enchantments, tensing as she crossed the border. The shadows didn’t move. She took her chance and snuck into the forest as quickly as she could.
There was no need for light here; she knew the forest as well as her own home. She knew every protruding root and every shadowy corner for hiding. She moved through the woods swiftly, till she could see the front of the Burrow in the distance. Following the sounds of fighting and spells and screaming, she skulked about till she was behind the tumult, and quietly disabled some of the stray Death Eaters on the outskirts of the congregation. Bellatrix Black and Lucius Malfoy were there, like Draco said, and most of the other Death Eaters were too busy jeering at Draco writhing at the hands of his aunt to pay attention to their surroundings.
“Crucio,” she heard Bellatrix Black say, and when it was over she heard Draco still snarl at her in defiance.
She forced the nausea and fear back down, focused and found a fierce feral anger at hand. She took down a few more and counted maybe seven, eight of them left? Grabbing the one before her, she was abruptly swung backwards as he turned on her.
“Incendio,” she muttered breathlessly, as fire immediately consumed the struggling Death Eater.
But her plan was blown, and the group of Death Eaters looked at her gleefully. “Expelliarmus!” And she almost laughed hysterically when several wands, including Black’s and Malfoy’s, came flying towards her. She did not pause to take them, taking advantage of their surprise to dash through the circle and haul Draco to his feet, dragging him back to behind the border of the protective enchantments while he shouted stupefy reducto confringo as they ran.
He hustled her through the barrier, pushing at her back as he came in behind her. Once they crossed it, he collapsed on her, apparently no longer able to move his limbs. “Draco, move,” she grunted, crawling out from under his weight.
Molly and Arthur ran out of the house, throwing a few choice curses at the intruders through the barrier. “Ginny, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Ginny panted. “Draco is -” And that was when she caught sight of the dagger sticking out of his back, realised that it was why he’d had fell on her.
She was on her knees beside him in an instant. “Ohh bugger this is not happening.”
Arthur took one look at them and ran back to the house. “I’ll call for a Mediwizard.”
“Draco, Draco, look at me,” she whispered, brushing damp hair away from his face. “You’ll be fine, just hold on, be strong. I’m here with you.”
He started shaking his head slightly. “Ginny, I don’t think - I don’t think… Ginny, I’m not coming back for you. It’ll end like this again. I can’t do that to you. I’m not coming back for you, don’t come back for me. Find another life, be safe, be happy. I won’t let this happen again.”
“Why not?” She found she couldn’t even cry. It just hurt, every inch of her body, of her soul.
“Because I love you,” he grated. “Because I don’t want you to love me back and end up like this the next time; I just want you to live happily.”
Then he went quiet, his eyes slipping shut.
“Draco, Draco,” she wailed. “Don’t come back for me then. Don’t. I love you so please don’t come back for me.”
The sound of Bellatrix Black’s taunting reached her ears then, cackling and giggling as she danced around on the grass. Ginny’s legs moved of their own accord, rising and gripping her wand tightly. She could hear her own heartbeat, lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub, now so very alone. It rung in her ears painfully and she realised she was trembling and she didn’t think it was from fear.
She stood behind the barrier across from Black, who was staring at her with a cat-like grin, head tilted as though to see what Ginny would do. Something dark rose in her, and she licked her lips, hate and despair making her voice hoarse, “Crucio.”
To her surprise, Bellatrix Black was thrown into air and fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.
Her wand slipped out of her fingers, as her mother reached for her and pulled Ginny into her arms. Ginny was still trembling and through the haze in her mind, she heard her mother murmur strange soothing words to her. Then she raised her hands to her face, and saw they were slippery and dripping with blood, red and wet and reminiscent of all the other lives she had in other worlds and it echoed in her head like a curse: blood blood blood blood blood.
A sudden pain streaked through her mind exploded and a harsh bright light consuming her from the inside and she fell to the ground, dazedly registering more footsteps that came running out of the house, her mother shaking her frenziedly. She couldn’t move her body at all, and when her head screamed in agony again, all she could do was to let go and fall into the bright churning whirlpool.
*
Souls are funny things. Incomprehensible things. One cannot even begin to adequately convey the multitude of complexities and nuances that make up the harmoniously functioning paradox that becomes a soul. That becomes you.
You… can be so absurd sometimes. I’m dysfunctional, that’s what I am.
*
Ginny remembered the red red blood on her hands, the bright lights like shards stabbing at her till she screamed, and the curious blonde strands of hair floated in the wind as she had closed her eyes to the painful lights.
But there was peace now, peace and quiet. She could almost feel the calming lights washing her in peace, the clouds tickling her feet. The light here was not painful. The lights here made her want to stay forever.
Then she remembered him. Remember how he wasn’t coming back. How, without her, he could live and be happy now. She remembered her friend, and she heard her panicked voice Ginny Ginny Ginny, whispers along the wind. The clouds understood, and the clouds let her go. And the she was falling through the rushing wind.
She came to with a start, images flashing before her eyes before they settled on Hermione’s calm reassuring brown eyes.
“Ginny, Ginny, yes it’s me.” Hands were stroking her face.
“H-hermione,” she croaked.
There were several relieved sighs and her friend actually laughed weakly with relief.
“He’s not coming back and I’m not going,” she muttered numbly. “He died.”
“Ginny, look at me. Look at me. You’re safe. You’re in the hospital wing...”
“Yes…” She looked around, vaguely seeing a messy empty bed beside hers. “I’m in the hospital wing.”
“Merlin, Hermione, she’s not five years old!” And then all her brothers and her parents were swarming around the bed before her, with cakes and sweets and chocolates.
Fred shook a bottle of Firewhisky in front of her. “I’m the best brother ever, aren’t I?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.
Molly smacked him on the head. “Fred!”
Fred only snickered. “I’m outta here. See you later at dinner, Gin.” They all muttered kind words to her and gradually filed out. Harry lingered for a while, before nodding at her and leaving with Hermione.
“Is something wrong?” She asked.
“Harry’s just in shock, Gin. Albus told us what happened.” Arthur replied.
“What happened?”
“About the dreams and… Draco,” said her mother carefully. “He’s all right, you know, somehow, something surprising happened and he recovered. Albus has a few theories. He’s having something to eat now; he hasn’t left your side in days. I practically had to force-feed him. Told him -”
“Mum, look! I found the slimy git stuffing his face and -”
“Bugger off, you ugly sod,” came a muffled, familiar voice.
“Ah, Draco there you are!” Her mother said brightly. “I’ll leave you two alone. Albus will be down shortly, I think he wants to speak with the both of you. Come on Arthur, Ron…” Molly dragged the both of them away, leaving the hospital wing quiet once more.
Draco was standing before her, looking slightly uncertain. “Hello, how are you feeling?”
“Good.” She moved closer to him. “You?”
“Good,” he repeated lamely. “Umm, look, Dumbledore has a theory on what happened. On why I’m not dead when I should be. Basically he thinks we ruined the cycle. That we were supposed to die one after the other so the cycle could start again - but when we mutually decided that being together was less important than each other’s well-being and happiness, that broke it once and for all.”
“So you’re not going to die?”
“Merlin, I hope not.”
She was off the bed and had her arms around him tightly before he could say anything more. “I thought you died.”
“I did die,” he said lightly. “And so did you, despite having no physical injuries at all. But we’re all right now and that’s what matters. There’s a war coming and your brothers are out for my blood so there’s a lot more chances for dying - and bloody hell, we seem to make a habit of it.”
“It’s a bad habit,” she said tiredly.
“It is.”
“We’ve come such a long way but we have a longer way to go.”
“Indeed.”
So they just stood there in the stillness, wrapped up in each other and it was as infinite as moments went. Her head resounded with peace peace peace and then heaven?
Yes.
There were many more arguments and bickering to be had, many more occasions for sharing chocolate cakes, and many more battles to conquer. And they would face it, for better or for worse. Together.
ORIGINAL REQUEST:
Briefly describe what you'd like to receive in your fic: Going off the theme of nostalgia, the thing that originally drew me to D/G fics was the idea of them as star-crossed lovers. So I am requesting a fic that portrays this classic concept, but in a way that spans generations. In other words - I would like a fic that portrays Ginny and Draco as two old souls that have been attempting to be together for centuries, but each time they've met, outside forces have kept it from working out. It's up to you as to whether or not Ginny and/or Draco are aware of this "history" and if they are able to break the "curse" in the end.
The tone/mood of the fic: Unbridled passion and bittersweet
An element/line of dialogue/object you would specifically like in your fic: Show their first meeting/failed attempt to be together all those hundreds of years ago. And have this meeting be based off of Loreena McKennitt's song "The Highwayman" as closely as possible.
rating of the the fic you want: Anything but NC-17 (sex scenes are fine, but not explicitly graphic details)
Canon or AU? Either.
Rating: PG 13
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Some angst
Author's Notes: I hope you guys like it! :) This is my first fanfic in 4, 5 years so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
Summary: Strange dreams plague Ginny, making her realise that there's more to Draco Malfoy than she knows, that love can indeed span centuries, and that death is never final.
Death Will Tremble (To Take Us) Part 1/2
Death Will Tremble (To Take Us) 2/2
*
If there’s anything I’ve learnt, it’s that there’s no substitute for love. But, when in need, Chocolate Frogs and copious amounts of Firewhisky is close as hell as it can get. Being in love with you is starting to make me into somewhat of an alcoholic.
I did warn you that I was unhealthy for you. But you never listen, do you?
*
Since then, Ginny spent countless nights and free time in the library, finding out everything she could about dreams and souls. It was akin to searching for a needle in a bloody haystack, and on top of that, she had to contend with her sixth year exams that were quickly approaching. Sometimes Hermione would join her as well, frenziedly preparing for her N.E.W.Ts; soon enough, they rarely left the library at all, and the table by the windows overlooking the school grounds was as good as theirs.
She was spending so much time with Hermione, it came as no surprise that she eventually fell asleep while studying one day, and woke up mid-groan with a visibly worried Hermione roughly shaking her awake.
“A-are you all right?” Hermione asked, uncharacteristically fazed. “You sounded like you were in horrible pain.”
“’S nothing. Just a bad dream.”
“What kind of bad dream?” Her tone was steadier, sharper now.
Ginny muttered, “I dreamt I died.” Which wasn’t entirely the truth, but wasn’t a lie either.
“We are going to Madam Pomfrey for some Dreamless Draught later. And no, don’t argue with me,” her friend snaps before Ginny can even protest. “I know something has been troubling you for a long time, and if this is it, I must insist on you getting help. So, these dreams are important then?”
She tried for condescending. “N-no… Merlin, everybody dreams, Hermione! These are just regular nightmares everyone has once in a while. I don’t see you complaining about Harry’s.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “So regular dreams have you raiding the Restricted Section for books on dreams and souls?” When Ginny only silently shifted in her seat, she sighed, “You can tell me anything, you know. I won’t tell a soul if you don’t want me to.”
“I know,” whispered Ginny miserably.
So she told Hermione. It started out as an unsteady stream of awkward fumbling sentences at first, and then gave way to torrents of explanation, description, feelings… It came out of her like a flood, and then it was over, her chest felt lighter freer. It was then she realised how undeniably exhausted she was.
Ginny sighed. “I miss him. We had… something. But he’s not very happy with me and it’d be unfair to him to tell him about these dreams and I won’t allow something bad to happen to him because of me. So.”
“So,” Hermione begun cautiously, the queerest look on her face - as though she was seeing Ginny for the first time. “Basically, you can’t be together or you’ll both die?”
“Unfortunately,” said Ginny miserably. “From what I know, the dreams are either a foreshadowing of something bad about to happen, or -”
“Or you guys have been trying to be together for centuries but it always ends tragically? And due to the pure tenacity - synonym for idiocy, by the way - both your souls refuse to go wherever it is souls go and end up back here searching for each other for another lifetime?” Hermione heaved a sigh in obvious frustration. “I’ve read all about it in books: very old magic, reincarnation, old souls with a love strong enough to rival death… But to see it actually happening…”
“History will only repeat itself when we do find each other...”
There was quiet for a moment, almost peaceful and contemplative, and then Hermione blinked. “Wow, so Malfoy, huh? Can’t say I envy you.”
“Hmm.”
“Hardly surprisingly, too. If any two people were so meant to be, complete with the cosmic jokes on your life and all, it’d Malfoy and you.”
“… w-what?”
“I’m not blind, Gin,” said Hermione, levelling a glare at her. “It may have gone unnoticed with Harry and Ron, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and you at him. It’s… kind of unnerving, to be honest. Like you both are irrevocably lost in the worlds in each other’s eyes, and you’d always belong to each other no matter what happens. It’s weird when things like that happen out of books.”
Ginny smiled wanly.
“Makes me actually want to stab my eyes out sometimes.”
“Oh come on, it’s not like we were caught in flagrante delicto,” protested Ginny.
Hermione scowled. “And thank you for putting the image of a naked Malfoy in my head. Bloody fantastic.”
It was hard not to laugh now. “Oh wouldn’t dear Ronald be so displeased.”
Their struggle to maintain impassive expressions only lasted for a few seconds before they both roared with laughter, hearty and cleansing. Hermione was still in a fit of giggles till the very end, and Ginny - Ginny, for the first time in months, laughed with her heart. It was painful and it made her tear endlessly but it was undeniably real.
The next few weeks were easier on Ginny. She spent all her time with Hermione in the library, either working on their exams or trying to find out more about the dreams and souls. On the few occasions when she took a break, she found herself up at the Owlery, hastily scribbling words before she would find the sense to throw them away.
Dear Draco, it has been a while.
Dear Draco, all the best for your N.E.W.Ts!
Draco, how are you? I hope the Slytherins have stopped giving you a hard time.
I miss you, Draco.
I miss you, Draco, and I think ‘miss’ is understating it.
At the last one, she swore, threw it in the fire, and watching the fire consume her words into black curling ash. Maybe they would fare better in their next lives - at least she had that to look forward to. Ginny laughed to herself then, mocking and bitter and tired. She was fine without him. She had to be. So he would live. They had to be fine without each other.
She had told Hermione the very same thing. “I’m fine without him,” Ginny said resolutely. “I can survive without him.”
Her friend had only arched a brow. “But surviving is not living, is it?”
“It’d be selfish of me to go to him when I know what will happen. I can’t do that. Not to him.”
“He’s not going to die, Gin. And that goes for you as well. There must be a way to solve this and we’ll find it. And then you can have your happily ever after with the ferret. Urgh. We just need to find the right book.” Hermione squeezed her hand tightly, drawing Ginny into a hug. “Trust me. We’ll stop this somehow.”
There was nothing left for Ginny to say. And if anyone had a chance of outsmarting the odds, she knew it would be Hermione Granger. “Okay.”
*
You being healthy and happy was always more important than you loving me back.
*
Countless late nights of studying and researching bled together, and soon Ginny found herself in the Hogwarts Express munching on countless Chocolate Frogs as she half-listened to Harry ramble on about the Aurors. Now that school was over for them, they’d planned to join the Aurors to build up their army against Voldemort’s rising forces. There was a storm on the horizon, and everyone knew it.
Exams were over, school was over - it was time to let go of everything. That morning, she’d had watched him during breakfast, she watched him get onto the train; she had committed every single nuance of him to memory. His almost-smiles, the moons and worlds in his eyes, the sound of his laugh, even the nonchalant way he gracefully stepped onto the train despite all the stares. She knew it was the last time she would ever see him. In this lifetime, at least.
It had been a long time since they had spoken, and she was almost surprised to realise that what she felt for Draco Malfoy had not faltered at all. But that epiphany didn’t changed things though. It changed nothing at all.
“Giiiiinnnn,” came Ron, waving his arms before her face. “Are you even here with us?”
“What?” Ginny was startled back into reality.
“Oh sit down, Ronald. Let your sister breathe,” said Hermione crossly. “She’s tired, that’s all. As I am as well, having to deal with you all the time.”
“What do you mean by having to deal with me?” Ron snorted, evidently insulted.
As Hermione and Ron bickered on, Ginny shifted in her seat, turning to face the window. Harry was watching her intently, and it discomfited her.
“I’m going to the loo,” she announced, standing up. She forced herself not to run out of the compartment, with Harry’s eyes following her all the way.
Ginny managed to make it through the rest of the journey without speaking to anyone. When she was at last back home in her own room, she heaved a sigh and flopped onto her bed. She stayed like that for hours, watching the first rays of sunset filter through her window to dance along her ceiling in delightful patterns, till the last beam disappeared and all was dim.
Her first week at the Burrow passed in this manner. She did quiet, calming things: knitting, reading, watching the grass sway in the breeze. It was in the third week did she venture outdoors, playing a relaxing game of Quidditch on her own or taking in a walk in the small forest by her house. The house was quiet now, with everyone save Molly and her aiding Harry in the war against Voldemort. Of course, she wasn’t allowed to help because it was too dangerous, and that was immensely frustrating. During all the time she had for introspection, she often wondered if it was worst fighting in the war, or having to stay behind and worrying about the people fighting in the war. She hated feeling this helpless.
It was only well into the second month one evening when something out of the ordinary happened. Ginny was rearranging the postcards on her wall when there was a knock on the front door. The house was so quiet that single knock resounded through the house. No one of the family knocked, so she knew it’d be something of importance. Immediately, she dropped her postcards and bounded downstairs just in time to hear a loud thud like something slumping against the door.
“Who is it?” Molly asked, coming out of the kitchen and wiping her hands on her apron.
There were countless protective enchantments surrounding the house, so this could not have been someone unauthorised. Ginny shrugged in answer, and opened the door. The stranger slipped to the ground, and as he clutched at himself, his black cloak slipped back to reveal the eyes she had dreamt about and never thought she’d see again. Except now those eyes were watering in pain and there was a faint metallic scent of blood in the air.
“Draco?” Her voice was a strangled gasp. “Merlin.”
“Take in him, dear,” Molly instructed. “Put him on the couch.”
“What’s he doing here?” She asked, feeling a rolling nauseous feeling in her stomach.
“The poor boy’s bleeding, Ginevra. We can ask questions later.”
Bloody hell. She was half-convinced that this was one of her dreams. Taking out her wand, she levitated him over to the couch, tucking him in properly when his long limbs stuck out all over. She made him show her his wounds, and struggled not to flinch when they were revealed to be raw and bleeding profusely.
“I didn’t suffer all those months for you to die anyway,” she whispered brokenly to herself, trying to keep the horror out of her voice. “W-what happened?”
When he laughed, with blood trickling down the corner of his lips, she was sure she was dreaming. “Father found my hide-out. Showed me how displeased he was for having such a disappointing son.”
Before she had the chance to reply, her mother bustled over with some warm water and a towel. “Your father’s on the way home. You’re better than me at healing spells, Gin, you do what you can.”
Her mother left. Trying to still her shaking hands and her shuddering breaths, she cast various healing spells over him, sighing in relief when the ugly bruises disappeared and the gaping wounds on his chest improved to shallower gashes. Turning him over, she did the same for his back. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t get the wounds to close completely; Lucius was evidently an adept torturer. She took the damp towel, cleaning the blood off him gently and then wrapping his injuries in bandages - all the while ignoring the way his silver eyes never left her face. Reaching for his face then, she wiped the blood, dirt and sweat away, her hands unwittingly lingering on his cheeks, his jaw, his lips. His eyes flickered shut at her touch.
She cleared her throat. “Come on,” she muttered somewhat brusquely. “Can you walk to the guest room or do I have to levitate you again?”
Even after being tortured half to death, Draco still managed to muster up a convincing condescending look. She ended up half-carrying him all the way to the guest room. It was easier than she’d expected, for he was thinner and gaunter than ever. Once she tucked him under the covers, she retreated instantly, hovering at the door.
“Umm, get some sleep. I’ll check on you later.” With that, she fled.
Ginny found her mother in the kitchen, cooking dinner like a half-dead Malfoy hadn’t almost fainted on her doorstep. “Mum?”
“How’s Draco, dear?”
“Sleeping, I should think.”
She waited for her mother to say something, but she said nothing. “Am I missing something? That’s Malfoy sleeping in our guest room. I thought you’d… disapprove, at least.”
Her mother sighed. “Albus told us about him a few months ago. Said that if he ever asked for it, we were to take him in and protect him as one of the Order. Naturally we were all curious, and then he told us what the poor boy had to sacrifice. He was disowned, did you know? He had no place to go because he refused the Dark Mark. Of course he was safe at Hogwarts, but once he graduated… Still, he refused Albus’ many offers of assistance and managed to hide away from the Death Eaters. Until now. They don’t take very kindly to traitors.”
“Professor Dumbledore knew about it?”
“Albus knows about everything that goes on in Hogwarts, dear.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“You didn’t ask, Gin.” Her mother frowned, studying her too closely for her liking. “I didn’t know you and Draco knew each other…”
“Mum! We had detention together, that’s all.”
“Ah,” said her mother, the corners of her lips twitching like she was suppressing a smile. “Take some food up to Draco, will you? Poor boy must be starving! Did you see how bony he was? Make sure he finishes everything on the tray, dear.”
She trudged up the stairs, hoping Draco would be asleep by now. She peeked through the gap in the door, the door creaked, and luminous eyes swivelled onto her. Doing her best to avoid eye contact, she laid the tray on the bedside table.
“Are you hungry?”
He shook his head.
“Do you want some water?” She asked, gesturing to the glass of water on the tray.
Another shake of his head.
“Right,” she muttered awkwardly. “The tray is there is you need them. Call out if you need anything else. I’ll, umm, be off now.”
“Don’t go,” he rasped weakly.
Ginny smiled at him, soft and sad. “I think it’s best if I go.”
“P-please.”
“You didn’t need me then, you won’t need me now.” She hated herself for bringing up the past. But it needed to be said.
“Gin.”
Just her name. Just her name and she found herself sitting on the edge of his bed, taking his hand in hers. He had never said her name before - not that that, at least. “I’m here, Draco.”
His eyes closed and he sighed, as though finally content. “You are wrong. I always needed you.”
“I am sorry,” she whispered into the darkness. It was difficult and the words had the weight of worlds, but she forced them out of her throat anyway. I am sorry, for everything.
He stared at her for long seconds. “Don’t be,” said Draco at last. “It wasn’t your fault. I wasn’t mad at you. I probably should have replied to your letter.”
“Why didn’t you? I was… worried.”
“I was afraid. Of many things. Mainly, I was afraid for you. You have died for me so many times, I couldn’t let you do it again...”
This would have sounded like rambling from a delirious patient, but Ginny knew better. “You knew? About the past, about the dreams?”
A tight nod.
“But it took me months! And even then I barely found anything in the Restricted Section!”
He chuckled weakly. “Let’s just say that I’m privy to more extensive libraries than the Restriction Section.”
“Oh, sod off.”
“Is this any way to show your gratitude and affection for a dying man?”
Rather than snort and mutter something sarcastic in reply, she stopped thinking, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Something warm pulsed in her, and the hole in her heart the shape of him ceased to exist, and she was made whole again. Her heart thrummed, but at the same time, she had never felt such peace. “Is that better?” She murmured against his skin.
“Much.”
She walked over to the door and paused. “Goodnight, Draco.”
He only closed his eyes and grunted in response.
Ginny watched him sleep for a few minutes, and then she closed the door. She smiled to herself all the way till she was in her bed, gazing up at the ceiling. “Thank you,” she whispered to the night sky, to the stars, to the moon, to whatever that brought him back to her.
*
I’d rather have sixty-two minutes of stolen time with you, then the world at my feet with anyone else.
*
They lasted three days without bickering.
On the third day, at breakfast, he stole her juice when he finished his own. In return, she stole the last piece of ham on his plate, earning herself a glare from her mother - while Molly heaped more food on his plate. She hated the smug smile he shot her. Then they went outdoors for a game of Quidditch and he hogged the Quaffle most of the time. She hated the way he showed off, and how he was still recovering so she could not inflict bodily harm on him. When she tried to read later that afternoon, he snatched the book away from her and insisted that she should talk to him because he was bored. She hated how he knew she’d give in when he gave her his best pleading look (the look that, many years before, had Narcissa Malfoy caving in to his every whim and fancy).
So she told him. “I hate you, Draco Malfoy.”
“You’re immensely annoying yourself,” he promptly informed her. “You stole my ham, you sulked because you don’t like the way I play Quidditch, and you ignored me in favour of your silly book.”
Ginny stalked off to fly on her own, practising the most complicated moves to take her mind off the most infuriating person she ever had the misfortune to meet.
This time, they lasted precisely three hours and thirty minutes without talking to each other.
During dinner, he gave her the last of his chicken (his favourite), and she gave him the last of her potatoes (her favourite) and that was that, there was peace on earth. They then ignored the strangely beaming Molly and oblivious Arthur to share a slice of chocolate cake (both their favourites) as dessert, and the day’s argument was all history.
But, as they say, history repeats itself. And so the next few weeks lasted in this manner. Despite the bickering, it all ended the same way: with a shared chocolate cake, or a stroll through the forest, or creeping up to the roof to watch the stars, or, as it happened once, a very passionate kiss that was interrupted when Ginny almost slipped out of the window.
Which led to another argument:
“If you hadn’t crushed me to the wall so tightly, I wouldn’t have almost slipped out!” Ginny hissed.
“Are you lecturing me on how to snog you?” Draco asked incredulously.
This argument ended in Ginny crushing him to the wall and silencing him with her mouth. It was like the dungeons all over again, except this had no real anger in it and his lips were soft and sweetly bruising against hers, sealing over her own mouth like she was his air and he needed to breathe her in and make her a part of himself. She kissed his eyelids, his cheeks, his neck I love you I love you I love you so hard I could crush you with my love and held him as close as she could to her trembling heart.
When they were lying side by side later that night, the silence that reigned rang with contentment and peace. Peace.
“When I refused the Dark Mark, I never saw this as my future. This proves I made the right decision, after all.” Draco spoke quietly into the dark, his arm warm around her.
“So you only believe what I say after I snog you?” Ginny complained playfully. “So if I snog you and tell you what an annoying sod you are, would you truly believe me?”
He gave her an impatient look. “I’m trying to be serious here.”
“All right, all right. I’m all ears. So. What made you decide not to? Take the Dark Mark, I mean.”
“Many things… But there was this once, I was out late walking along the streets. Bellatrix and Lucius were arguing again, so I didn’t want to go back. It was cold and I didn’t have a coat. I huddled up on this bench, and out of nowhere, this homeless Muggle tells me ‘This is my bench but there’s room for you if you don’t snore’ and he let me have his coat, even though I didn’t want it. And he could have been frozen from the cold. I stayed there till dawn and I went back to the manor never able to do the Cruciatus Curse properly again. Bella used to tell me I had a talent for it, that being a Death Eater was what I was born for. But I became useless at all the Unforgivable Curses and it went downhill from there.”
Ginny shivered, and she told herself it was because it was a chilly night. So she burrowed deeper into Draco’s arms. “Did you use the Unforgivable Curses on people a lot?”
“When the Dark Lord demanded it. Which was frequent, I suppose.”
“Were you very good at them?”
“One of the best.” His voice was chilling, as hard and sharp as ice. “My father was never more proud. They said I was born for it. Born to serve the Dark Lord, born to torture and maim.”
“They were wrong and you know they are wrong,” said Ginny firmly, lifting her head out of his arms to look at him in the eye resolutely. What she saw in his pale eyes was not Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, son of the Death Eater. What she saw was all Draco, just Draco, all hers - every broken, devastating, beautiful bit. “You were born to be mine.”
“Am I?” He asked lightly, his casual tone hiding the tremor of desperation beneath. “You’re just saying that because I snogged you senseless.”
She ignored the veneer of snark. “As I am yours.”
“You’re definitely senseless then,” said Draco, but he smiled and nuzzled her cheek. At length, he went on, “You know, Dumbledore knows about us. After realising you could have been in danger from spending the detentions with me, I went straight to him for help. Novel experience, asking someone for help... But his advice, on you and other matters, really did straighten out my affairs.”
“He advised you not to see me?”
“It was the only logical solution,” he shrugged. “And he assured me it was temporary. He knew a great many things on old souls and magic, but a solution to something as arcane as this needed time and expertise.”
“Hermione has been helping me look for answers too, but so far, nothing.” Ginny groaned, “What are we going to do? Especially now that you’re here… It would be easier if we stayed away from each other.”
“To be honest, I doubt it’d be easier. Could you stay away from me now?”
“I can’t,” Ginny grumbled into his skin as she pulled him closer. “Why why why.”
“Because I’m irresistible,” he said, and she sensed his smirk in the dim lights.
All of a sudden, a vague shadow swooped past her window and there was a loud thud that spoke of something landing. Loud booming noises resounded around the house and she heard something shudder under the attack.
Ginny jumped out of the bed. “Something’s wrong.”
Draco was already sticking his head out of the window. “Oh, dear fuck.”
She pulled him away from the window and into the living room downstairs, just in time to see Molly and Arthur coming down in the midst of another rumbling groan from above. “Mum, Dad, what’s going on?”
Arthur’s face was drawn as he spoke. “The protective enchantments protecting our house are being… attacked. They were cast by Albus himself, so they should hold. But in the event they are breached, we would have no choice but to Floo to Grimmauld Place.”
“Arthur, we can’t stay till they’re breached!” Molly cried. “We have to leave now before it happens!”
“Albus cast it himself. Have faith, dear. I have called the Order, they are coming.” His tone was calm, but his expression strained. He already had his wand ready by this side.
Molly pulled him aside, speaking in a loud agitated whisper that could still be heard. “Ginny is here. Draco, too. We cannot risk them, dear.”
Draco spoke for the first time since they came downstairs. “I’m going out.”
“No dear, you are not. You are coming to Grimmauld Place with us. It’s very secure.”
“I can’t.” His face was paler than usual, and there was a hardness to his expression that scared Ginny. “Gin, you go with your parents. I have to stay. I saw them. It’s my father and aunt out there.”
“But -”
“It’s my father and aunt.” His tone sounded like it could command armies; harsh and brooked no argument. “I have to stay.”
Ginny didn’t care. “I’m staying with you then.”
He cast her an impassive expression, clearly not caring about her protests. Before she could say or do anything else, he strode out of the front door. Ginny stood there, fists clenched at her sides; it seemed like an eternity before she could move her legs to go after him.
“Ginevra!” Her mother cried then, holding her back. “Listen to Draco, honey. Come with us. He wants you to be safe. He loves you.”
“That’s precisely why I can’t leave him! Mum, please. I know what I’m doing. Please. Trust me,” she implored.
Molly’s hands loosened slightly on her shoulders. “Gin -”
Ginny took the chance to twist out of her grip, and with a last look at her parents, she ran to the kitchen and out the backdoor. She saw several shadows flitting in the darkness, lurking just outside the protective boundaries. But that was not what she came for. Casting all the cloaking spells she knew on herself, she hoped her impromptu plan of subterfuge would work.
It was dark and the cloaking spells she had should hide her well enough. She moved along the house, and the shadows didn’t seem to notice. She crept straight out through the protective enchantments, tensing as she crossed the border. The shadows didn’t move. She took her chance and snuck into the forest as quickly as she could.
There was no need for light here; she knew the forest as well as her own home. She knew every protruding root and every shadowy corner for hiding. She moved through the woods swiftly, till she could see the front of the Burrow in the distance. Following the sounds of fighting and spells and screaming, she skulked about till she was behind the tumult, and quietly disabled some of the stray Death Eaters on the outskirts of the congregation. Bellatrix Black and Lucius Malfoy were there, like Draco said, and most of the other Death Eaters were too busy jeering at Draco writhing at the hands of his aunt to pay attention to their surroundings.
“Crucio,” she heard Bellatrix Black say, and when it was over she heard Draco still snarl at her in defiance.
She forced the nausea and fear back down, focused and found a fierce feral anger at hand. She took down a few more and counted maybe seven, eight of them left? Grabbing the one before her, she was abruptly swung backwards as he turned on her.
“Incendio,” she muttered breathlessly, as fire immediately consumed the struggling Death Eater.
But her plan was blown, and the group of Death Eaters looked at her gleefully. “Expelliarmus!” And she almost laughed hysterically when several wands, including Black’s and Malfoy’s, came flying towards her. She did not pause to take them, taking advantage of their surprise to dash through the circle and haul Draco to his feet, dragging him back to behind the border of the protective enchantments while he shouted stupefy reducto confringo as they ran.
He hustled her through the barrier, pushing at her back as he came in behind her. Once they crossed it, he collapsed on her, apparently no longer able to move his limbs. “Draco, move,” she grunted, crawling out from under his weight.
Molly and Arthur ran out of the house, throwing a few choice curses at the intruders through the barrier. “Ginny, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Ginny panted. “Draco is -” And that was when she caught sight of the dagger sticking out of his back, realised that it was why he’d had fell on her.
She was on her knees beside him in an instant. “Ohh bugger this is not happening.”
Arthur took one look at them and ran back to the house. “I’ll call for a Mediwizard.”
“Draco, Draco, look at me,” she whispered, brushing damp hair away from his face. “You’ll be fine, just hold on, be strong. I’m here with you.”
He started shaking his head slightly. “Ginny, I don’t think - I don’t think… Ginny, I’m not coming back for you. It’ll end like this again. I can’t do that to you. I’m not coming back for you, don’t come back for me. Find another life, be safe, be happy. I won’t let this happen again.”
“Why not?” She found she couldn’t even cry. It just hurt, every inch of her body, of her soul.
“Because I love you,” he grated. “Because I don’t want you to love me back and end up like this the next time; I just want you to live happily.”
Then he went quiet, his eyes slipping shut.
“Draco, Draco,” she wailed. “Don’t come back for me then. Don’t. I love you so please don’t come back for me.”
The sound of Bellatrix Black’s taunting reached her ears then, cackling and giggling as she danced around on the grass. Ginny’s legs moved of their own accord, rising and gripping her wand tightly. She could hear her own heartbeat, lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub, now so very alone. It rung in her ears painfully and she realised she was trembling and she didn’t think it was from fear.
She stood behind the barrier across from Black, who was staring at her with a cat-like grin, head tilted as though to see what Ginny would do. Something dark rose in her, and she licked her lips, hate and despair making her voice hoarse, “Crucio.”
To her surprise, Bellatrix Black was thrown into air and fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.
Her wand slipped out of her fingers, as her mother reached for her and pulled Ginny into her arms. Ginny was still trembling and through the haze in her mind, she heard her mother murmur strange soothing words to her. Then she raised her hands to her face, and saw they were slippery and dripping with blood, red and wet and reminiscent of all the other lives she had in other worlds and it echoed in her head like a curse: blood blood blood blood blood.
A sudden pain streaked through her mind exploded and a harsh bright light consuming her from the inside and she fell to the ground, dazedly registering more footsteps that came running out of the house, her mother shaking her frenziedly. She couldn’t move her body at all, and when her head screamed in agony again, all she could do was to let go and fall into the bright churning whirlpool.
*
Souls are funny things. Incomprehensible things. One cannot even begin to adequately convey the multitude of complexities and nuances that make up the harmoniously functioning paradox that becomes a soul. That becomes you.
You… can be so absurd sometimes. I’m dysfunctional, that’s what I am.
*
Ginny remembered the red red blood on her hands, the bright lights like shards stabbing at her till she screamed, and the curious blonde strands of hair floated in the wind as she had closed her eyes to the painful lights.
But there was peace now, peace and quiet. She could almost feel the calming lights washing her in peace, the clouds tickling her feet. The light here was not painful. The lights here made her want to stay forever.
Then she remembered him. Remember how he wasn’t coming back. How, without her, he could live and be happy now. She remembered her friend, and she heard her panicked voice Ginny Ginny Ginny, whispers along the wind. The clouds understood, and the clouds let her go. And the she was falling through the rushing wind.
She came to with a start, images flashing before her eyes before they settled on Hermione’s calm reassuring brown eyes.
“Ginny, Ginny, yes it’s me.” Hands were stroking her face.
“H-hermione,” she croaked.
There were several relieved sighs and her friend actually laughed weakly with relief.
“He’s not coming back and I’m not going,” she muttered numbly. “He died.”
“Ginny, look at me. Look at me. You’re safe. You’re in the hospital wing...”
“Yes…” She looked around, vaguely seeing a messy empty bed beside hers. “I’m in the hospital wing.”
“Merlin, Hermione, she’s not five years old!” And then all her brothers and her parents were swarming around the bed before her, with cakes and sweets and chocolates.
Fred shook a bottle of Firewhisky in front of her. “I’m the best brother ever, aren’t I?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.
Molly smacked him on the head. “Fred!”
Fred only snickered. “I’m outta here. See you later at dinner, Gin.” They all muttered kind words to her and gradually filed out. Harry lingered for a while, before nodding at her and leaving with Hermione.
“Is something wrong?” She asked.
“Harry’s just in shock, Gin. Albus told us what happened.” Arthur replied.
“What happened?”
“About the dreams and… Draco,” said her mother carefully. “He’s all right, you know, somehow, something surprising happened and he recovered. Albus has a few theories. He’s having something to eat now; he hasn’t left your side in days. I practically had to force-feed him. Told him -”
“Mum, look! I found the slimy git stuffing his face and -”
“Bugger off, you ugly sod,” came a muffled, familiar voice.
“Ah, Draco there you are!” Her mother said brightly. “I’ll leave you two alone. Albus will be down shortly, I think he wants to speak with the both of you. Come on Arthur, Ron…” Molly dragged the both of them away, leaving the hospital wing quiet once more.
Draco was standing before her, looking slightly uncertain. “Hello, how are you feeling?”
“Good.” She moved closer to him. “You?”
“Good,” he repeated lamely. “Umm, look, Dumbledore has a theory on what happened. On why I’m not dead when I should be. Basically he thinks we ruined the cycle. That we were supposed to die one after the other so the cycle could start again - but when we mutually decided that being together was less important than each other’s well-being and happiness, that broke it once and for all.”
“So you’re not going to die?”
“Merlin, I hope not.”
She was off the bed and had her arms around him tightly before he could say anything more. “I thought you died.”
“I did die,” he said lightly. “And so did you, despite having no physical injuries at all. But we’re all right now and that’s what matters. There’s a war coming and your brothers are out for my blood so there’s a lot more chances for dying - and bloody hell, we seem to make a habit of it.”
“It’s a bad habit,” she said tiredly.
“It is.”
“We’ve come such a long way but we have a longer way to go.”
“Indeed.”
So they just stood there in the stillness, wrapped up in each other and it was as infinite as moments went. Her head resounded with peace peace peace and then heaven?
Yes.
There were many more arguments and bickering to be had, many more occasions for sharing chocolate cakes, and many more battles to conquer. And they would face it, for better or for worse. Together.
ORIGINAL REQUEST:
Briefly describe what you'd like to receive in your fic: Going off the theme of nostalgia, the thing that originally drew me to D/G fics was the idea of them as star-crossed lovers. So I am requesting a fic that portrays this classic concept, but in a way that spans generations. In other words - I would like a fic that portrays Ginny and Draco as two old souls that have been attempting to be together for centuries, but each time they've met, outside forces have kept it from working out. It's up to you as to whether or not Ginny and/or Draco are aware of this "history" and if they are able to break the "curse" in the end.
The tone/mood of the fic: Unbridled passion and bittersweet
An element/line of dialogue/object you would specifically like in your fic: Show their first meeting/failed attempt to be together all those hundreds of years ago. And have this meeting be based off of Loreena McKennitt's song "The Highwayman" as closely as possible.
rating of the the fic you want: Anything but NC-17 (sex scenes are fine, but not explicitly graphic details)
Canon or AU? Either.