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Promises	By : recension Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Ginny Views: 2750 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, all characters items and worlds, do not belong to me but to WB and JK Rowling. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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It was the fifth snowfall of what felt like an already long winter. In any other year, in any other set of circumstances, Ginny would be enjoying the snowy evening outdoors. She'd go for a long, aimless flight. She'd lay on the soft, pure ground and watch the stars. Staring out of the dorm window she felt completely detached from that life. The war had begun, and Hogwarts was a shell of the haven it used to be. Magical education had been declared mandatory, though the education wasn't exactly practical. Under Snape's leadership, the school had become shrouded in darkness. Curfews were instated, and strictly enforced, giving Ginny too much time to sit and wonder about her family and friends out on the front lines. She felt imprisoned.

Luna hadn't returned from the Christmas holiday, and Ginny felt quick to assume the worst. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were out in the world somewhere, but time seemed to be dragging on in idleness.

She and Neville had decided to continue DA meetings and lessons, and it was the only thing keeping her from losing her mind. Ginny watched the last light of the tower go out, the light cast extinguishing its glow on the snow. When she was sure it was dark, Ginny grabbed her broom and her wand, kicking off from the window into the night.

She did one quick lap around the tower before hovering outside the Hufflepuff den. She raised her wand to the wall and whispered a charm, scrawling across the stone wall: "Dumbledores Army, still recruiting."

She had just finished the message when she heard snow crunching around the corner and she flew up to a nearby ledge to wait out the visitor. The moonlit snow was an ocean of pure cobalt blue surrounding the solitary black silhouette. As it came closer to view, Ginny recognized the figure as Draco Malfoy.

Draco, like many Slytherin boys, hadn't officially returned to school that fall, but could be seen wandering the castle every so often claiming "business" with one of the many new administrators. The "business" was really no mystery, but the frequency with which it was occurring was starting to alarm Ginny. She barely slept, and when she did it was with one eye open and one hand on her wand.

Harry had urged her to be careful. Though they'd split up in an effort to keep her from the radar of dark wizards, Ginny knew anyone with half a brain had to know what she meant to Harry and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. Still, she supposed there was care evident in the misguided logic, even if she did feel cast aside like a child while Harry and his friends mounted their plan.

As the figure came closer, Ginny laid down flat to avoid view. The message she'd just scribbled would come into view at any moment now. Sure enough, the footsteps slowed and halted in front of the wall. Her heart was beating so wildly that she could barely breathe. She didn't mind getting caught and punished for something clever, but vandalism wasn't her finest act.

She could hear robes rustling, and then footsteps continuing on through the fresh snow. When she got the courage to mount her broom again, she flew down to see if the message had been removed or tampered with.

"Dumbledore's Army, still recruiting," it now read. He'd corrected her grammar.

Draco slid off his robe, hanging it with care on the back of his office door. Straightening out his suit jacket in the mirror, Draco realized he was quite nervous. Though he could look into the mirror of Erised and see Ginny, barely clothed and beckoning him into the glass, knowing he was about to have the real thing was giving him a strange sense of lightness.

He had chosen a hotel, a muggle one. If she wanted discrete and secretive, he would provide it. After checking his messages for a third and final time, he left his office and navigated through Diagon Alley with speed and purpose. Once outside of the Leaky, he walked a few blocks before hailing a black cab, "The Savoy," he requested, comforted when the uncomfortable machine sped forward without a lurch.

Ginny had fiddled with the note all day. It had arrived taped to her typewriter as the previous one had, distinct and neat script, same as before. The text this time read as gibberish, but knowing he had signed it "—DM" gave her enough to crack the code.

"The Savoy at seven."

His family and hers had oceans of bad blood between them. His arm bore the mark of allegiance to a man who had personally tortured her, a man who had betrayed her trust. He was boyhood enemies with her husband, with her brother. An affair with Draco, even just a friendship, might be easily interpreted as a grave betrayal to anyone and everything Ginny considered familiar. Why does that make this easier?

The clock on her desk struck 6:45. The bullpen had mostly cleared out, a few writers scrambling to make deadline could be heard clicking away, the sound of struck keys comforting her somewhat. She had gone home at lunch to grab a dress and some perfume, afraid to under-dress for the occasion. Baby's first intentional affair.

With her mood turning dark, she grabbed her bag and headed to the ladies' room, changing into the dress before Disapparating.

He was waiting in the lobby for her, dressed not in black but a dark navy blue.

Ginny found herself fumbling for the term she had in mind, the appeal of this whole thing, as she crossed to him. His hands fell to her hips and he greeted her with a feather-light kiss to the cheek. His scent intoxicating in the close proximity, musk and might overwhelming her.

The term Ginny groped for arrived in her mind clear and loud as he took her hand to lead her. Death wish.

I must have a death wish.

Ginny could smell the tobacco as soon as she stepped from the shower. She squeezed the excess water from her hair before charming it dry, sliding her soiled lingerie back onto her clean body. In a final attempt at modesty, she slid on a bathrobe from the hotel before emerging. Draco was gone from the room, smoke rising from the lit tip of an abandoned cigarette resting in the room's ashtray at the bedside. Ginny had just raised it to her lips for a drag as the door clicked open.

"I didn't know you smoked," Draco raised an eyebrow, his absence explained by the now-full ice bucket in his hands, his statement blisteringly obvious as they knew so little of one another.

"Sometimes. One of my secrets," she took another drag, slowly exhaling the smoke from between pink lips before replacing the cigarette back onto the ashtray.

"I've ordered dinner, it should be here in any moment," he explained, "But I was wondering if you might just let them in, I'd like to clean up."

"Absolutely, sure, no- no problem," Ginny found herself nodding along too, awkwardly.

"They'll just charge it to the room, but the give the waiter this as well," Draco pulled out his wallet, searching for one of the few muggle bills he kept on hand.

"Draco—"

"It's just some muggle..."

"Draco, I live in London. I have muggle money. I can tip the waiter," Ginny pulled a small bill from her own purse.

"Of course," Draco felt his cheeks flush and he apologetically smiled, "I wasn't implying..."

"I know," Ginny found herself blushing as well. "Go take your shower," she directed, and he nodded briefly before disappearing into the bathroom.

Ginny hurried from The Savoy in complete embarrassment. It was starting to rain, London's sidewalks covered in umbrellas, bustling commuters heading to and fro. In the middle of it all, she felt so small. Just one woman crying in shame as she tried her best to walk home or catch a taxi.

The streets were too crowded with muggles to perform magic, so she couldn't even summon an umbrella. Buckets of water soaking her coat, her clothes, her hair and skin.

Minutes earlier she had been in the warm lobby of the hotel awaiting Draco's arrival. They had had six previous dates at the hotel, all rather successful, and Ginny had began to look forward to the routine. But the routine was broken; after almost two hours of waiting, Draco hadn't arrived at all.

To add insult to injury, a gentleman at the front desk tried to delicately suggest that she "look for a new client in the bar."

The small hiccup felt devastating to her. Over the years, Ginny had taught herself to be independent. She tried her best not to expect anything from others, and to not rely on anyone for companionship. Her isolation was of choice and self-protection, but Draco had stood at her gates and demanded entry. He had begun to prove himself worthy of affection, indispensable as a lover and a confidante. This evening had made a mockery of her eagerness to accept him.

On more than one occasion on the walk home, the thought occurred to her that maybe Draco had done this on purpose to humiliate her. The only thing that saved that thought was that Draco couldn't have possibly commanded the rain.

Ginny submerged her face in the sink, standing back up to manually scrub the tears and makeup and rain from her face. Her anger had subsided somewhat, but out of pride she was certain the affair had to end. Clearly she was too raw, too malleable to remain her own person. It was too risky to continue things this way.

Dunking a tea bag into a cup of hot water, she tried to imagine how the break-up would go. Her resolve had a way of completely dissolving around him. Breaking her concentration came shouting from next door. The couple living in number 11 Grimmauld Place had been living there for over 40 years, but they were now both so hard of hearing that they shouted to one another all day long. Just as she was about to cast a silencing charm at the wall, Ginny heard her surname shouted.

"He wants to know if we know the POT-TER family!"

Ginny grabbed her wand, abandoning her tea and slipping into shoes on instinct. Casting an Impervius charm to repel the rain, she slipped out the back door of the house, circling around the block to Grimmauld Place, keeping her wand drawn.

When she arrived, she saw a figure in a hooded black cloak standing on the porch landing of her neighbor's home. She seized her opportunity and approached the figure, ripping the hood down and keeping her wand drawn as she demanded, "Who are you?"

Her elderly neighbor was quick to shut the door in a fright, just as Ginny realized she was threatening Draco Malfoy.

"Easy," he requested, raising both empty hands defensively, "I come in peace. Please, no hexes, no charms. I've already had a lifetime's fill of trauma at the hands of your Bat-Bogey hex."

"I'm not sure I'm convinced of that," Ginny murmured, but she lowered her wand anyway.

"I couldn't owl, and I knew your house had a Fidelius charm on it. I figured I'd give this a go. Not my best plan, I'll admit," Draco frowned, but kept his hands raised in surrender, "I'm so sorry for earlier. I am so sorry. Ginny, believe me, please. Let me inside. Let me explain."

"I trust you about as far as I could throw you right now. Besides, Harry's home," she lied, retreating down her neighbor's stairs, "And I ought to just go let him pummel you and be done with it."

"Harry's away on business," Draco called after her, "Two nights in Bangkok. You told me last week. I wouldn't have come here otherwise."

Ginny knew if she let Draco into her home the secret of its existence would be spread. She tried to tell herself the war was over, the secret was now for privacy more than protection, but her heart was still racing from the assumption she had had moments ago. She couldn't bring herself to let him in.

Draco sensed her hesitation and kicked himself again for the day's actions. "We'll find a bar, a cafe. I don't care, just please let me explain. I know I fucked up."

Ginny wanted to walk away but he was there, genuine, begging. End it. End it now.

"Astoria is asking for full custody of Scorpius," Draco burst into explanation, knowing he might not get a chance to explain in private. "She's claiming with the business and the Falcons that I don't have time to be a parent."

Ginny found her heart growing sympathetic. His hair was a mess, untidy from the wind and rain, his body language open, offering, not reserved as it normally was. Everything read to her as entirely genuine, but she tried her best to steel her gaze. "I'm sorry, Draco."

"I know he's fifteen. But with school, I see him so little as it is. I can't stand the thought of that being year-round. I want to start bringing him up in the business... he's got a knack for it. We were at a negotiation that ran far too long. By the time I got to the hotel... they told me you'd gone," Draco took a deep breath. "Please forgive me."

Ginny shook her head, "It's nothing. Consider it forgotten," she crossed her arms across her chest in an effort to downplay her emotions. Somehow she knew Draco wasn't buying the act.

"Let me make it up to you," he offered, "Come to the Manor. Spend the night. I'll cook."

"You can cook?" Ginny tried not to be so incredulous.

"A few dishes, yes. 'One of my secrets,'" he teased her. "I'll pop into the corner shop for some wine, if you'll go pack."

Ginny found herself nodding, volunteering her heart for more pummeling, reaching out for company and attention even though she shouldn't.

A small smile graced his lips, "You have ten minutes before I knock on number 13," he warned in playful severity, starting his way down the street in the lightening rain. Ginny watched him disappear into the mist before turning back to her home, letting herself in and packing a bag.

Draco pushed the day's thoughts from his mind from the moment he walked in the door. For her part, she seemed dedicated to bury her discomfort at being in his home by keeping conversation moving. She effortlessly chopped a mound of vegetables with speed while recounting her week's griefs at work.

So often in those domestic moments with her, Draco felt incredibly lucky that he had been the one to notice her unhappiness. She was an incredible woman, and the first person in years to not expect something from treating him kindly.

"How are your children?" he cleared his throat to ask in a lull of conversation.

Ginny let her eyes rise to his, a smile on her lips, "My goodness, Draco. Are you making an effort?" she teased him, breaking into a full grin when she noticed he was getting a little red.

"I am making an attempt at getting to know you better, yes. Is that really so shocking?" Draco distracted himself with the pot on the stove, adding the now-chopped vegetables with care. He stilled his motions when he felt her arms embrace him from behind, her face pressed into the center of his back.

"I was so angry with you today," she admitted, barely a whisper.

"I know," he admitted, silent for a long minute, "I deserve it. I let you down. It's not anything I intended to ever do."

"It scares me how close we're getting," she squeezed him tighter, exhibiting affection that almost bowled him over. "It scares me how much I want to trust you," she let her hands fan out flat over his chest, keeping him close.

Draco let his hands come up and rest over hers. After a short exhale, a spontaneous declaration began to form in his mind, speeding out of his mouth in desperate need for her to hear it, "Ginny, I l—"

"—Don't," she spoke, withdrawing her hands from him, stepping away. "No promises, remember?"

"Tell me something you need," Ginny whispered, resting her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat return to normal. They were both a little wine drunk, a little post-coital affectionate, and a little nervous to share their first sleep together.

He traced a line of freckles around her shoulder, towards her elbow with an idle fingertip, "A need or a desire?"

"A need. A real need," Ginny tilted her head to rest her chin on his chest, her warm eyes shining in the low light of the bedroom, "A deep one. Private."

He took a deep breath as he thought about it, "I need... I needed someone to treat me kindly," he admitted. "The war never really gets further from my memory. I know we're getting older, I know the world has changed," he let his gaze rise to the ceiling, "But my father's legacy is the one I inherited."

"I swore my allegiance to a man I never respected, I let fear motivate my actions, I let myself be an actor in my own life. Some days I honestly have no idea how I survived," he cleared his throat softly, his mind running over stills from his life; moments preserved in his memory like amber. "People look at me in shops with trepidation, even still. I'm weighed down by my past. No one ever lets me forget who I was."

"My name raises eyebrows and suspicion. My son would probably be better off with his mother, as a Greengrass," Draco shut his eyes, the thoughts rolling to him in honest, quiet admittance.

Ginny reached for his left arm, raising it and cupping her cheek with the hand, kissing the palm, down his wrist, to the dormant mark that caused her lover so much pain. It was no secret that Draco was a prideful man, Ginny was comforted to hear he too had been in shambles before their affair began.

Draco held her close in a tight, grateful embrace.

"The war never disappears for me either," she admitted, squeezing him tight. "Sometimes I miss it... Isn't that a grotesque thought? Things were so much simpler."

"I have everything I ever wanted when I was a girl, and it's like I'm just now realizing it was all completely wrong," she whispered against his skin, "Being a Potter has drawn applause in shops and restaurants. Just for existing. We get gifts from strangers on our birthdays, even. And for what? My family wouldn't even let me fight in the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry never took me on his quests. I was on the sidelines because everyone was so afraid something would happen to me," Ginny let herself be held, shut her eyes as tears tried to escape. Years of repressed guilt bubbling out of her. "Sometimes I feel like I can still hear Tom Riddle in my head, telling me how special I am. Even though it was a lie, even though I was just a pawn to him, it was the first time anyone paid any attention to me."

Draco kissed her closed eyelids, their breathing evening to match, inhaling and exhaling in perfect mirrored movements. They fell asleep entwined.

Ginny woke to an empty bed, but there was a note pinned to the pillow beside her, "Breakfast is made for you downstairs, I have an early meeting but I will be back before 10. See if you can solve the puzzle. —DM"

Intrigued, she pulled herself from bed, shaking her sleep slowly as she shuffled her naked body into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash up. She spent a few minutes deciphering French labels from anything he'd provided for her, blushing as she realized the items must have belonged to his ex-wife at some point. They littered the bathroom counter.

She took care to not look too made-up, though she had packed a robe and chemise for her stay. The chocolate brown of the silk set played off her eyes, she hoped, but she focused on trying to look somewhat effortless. So often she felt there was simply no point in trying to kid herself; she was a mother of three and youth had left her. She didn't know what Draco possibly saw worth wanting.

Memory of the night before rolled over her in soft, pleasant waves as she descended the stairs of the grand house. Illuminated in sunlight, the Manor had a completely different feel than the night prior. Ginny was able to notice details—Draco's collection of mismatched antiques filling almost every surface in the house, even a notable absence of anything related to his father. She followed a heavenly scent to an overzealous breakfast set-up in a conservatory.

Ginny settled in to eat the meal prepared for her, curious about the puzzle Draco had mentioned until she looked out to the lush, well-manicured grounds just beyond the glass enclosure of the room.

Sitting on Draco's garden patio in the post-storm sun, looking quite out of place, was the Weasley family clock.

Ginny pushed out the door and approached the object, squinting in the morning light as she examined it. The clock had so many portraits fashioned onto it now that it was nearly impossible to read, every grandchild and spouse in her very large family affixed to the clock hands. There was one obvious malfunction—though it hardly seemed to be a puzzle—Ginny's portrait was quite firmly and immovably pointed at the destination of "Lost".

Ginny returned to her breakfast table for a few quick mouthfuls, still confused as to why the object was here, of all places. Obviously, Draco had intended to leave it there for her, so logic brought her to the conclusion that the item had been brought to one of Draco's shops for repair. Ginny carried her cup of tea out to the patio, setting it down nearby as she began performing simple charms on the clock to get it in working order again. She cleaned most of the gears, taking great care with the family heirloom, polishing each mysteriously-sticky arm with love. She took great care, most of all, on George's arm. After the war, Fred's portrait had been half spellotaped in loving tribute to George's, two smiling halves of a broken set.

Ginny frowned at her own portrait's insistence at pointing to her emotional state and not her location. She picked up her tea to finish it before a thought struck her. In all the time she had been in her childhood home, her father had never once let an object be replaced or repaired without a thoroughly misguided attempt at fixing it himself. If charms wouldn't work, if spells wouldn't solve it, her father would try everything in the cupboard. The clock arms were sticky.

"Tergeo," Ginny flicked her wand and watched with satisfaction as her portrait rotated naturally to the label, "Traveling," free of whatever syrupy substance had been interfering with the mechanism.

"You solved it," Draco called to her proudly from the doorway of the conservatory, "I think I owe you some sort of commission," he smiled, joining her outside, "It's an incredible object, truly. I'm happy I got to see something like it in my lifetime."

"Surely it's not that rare," Ginny shrugged, tying her robe around her to block out the fall chill.

"Last of its kind, far as I know. Every pureblood family used to own one, but they went out of style in the late 18th Century. This one was from your mother's family. Prewett," Draco opened a side panel of the clock where a very faded, barely legible label marked the clock's original owners. "Quite extraordinary," Draco replaced the panel with a smile, "Seeing as you solved the puzzle, I suppose you deserve a prize."

Ginny grinned, "Is it something I'll regret looking forward to?"

Draco laughed, shaking his head as he kissed her gently, "Good morning," he whispered against her lips before pulling himself from her to retrieve something in the house.

Ginny followed him into the house to refill her teacup. Draco returned with his hand behind his back and dramatically, he pulled out a small, flat, velvet box. Before Ginny could react, he had opened the box revealing a gold brooch, a lion with small rubies for eyes. The object felt familiar, she had seen it in photographs, but she couldn't remember when or from where.

"This isn't a gift for you, unfortunately," Draco handed the box to Ginny, "When your mother brought in the clock for repair we struggled to find her account because the account hadn't been used in over thirty years."

"My father likes to think of himself as a 'tinkerer'," Ginny explained with a small smile.

"When we found the records, I realized the last business she'd had with the shop had been the year you were born when she sold this brooch to the shop. Other than the gems it seems to hold little value, and since it's been sitting in inventory I thought it should return to the woman it rightfully belongs to," Draco explained, sheepishly studying Ginny for her reaction.

"I wanted to give it to her myself when she picks up the clock, but I have a strong feeling she won't take it from me," Draco smiled dimly. "I thought, since Christmas is coming up, it might make a nice gift to her from you."

Ginny clapped the box shut, placing it on the breakfast table with care before grabbing the back of Draco's neck and pulling him down to her height for a kiss. Startled, but appreciative, he pulled her close, hungrily returning the kiss. They clashed, lips and teeth and tongue until they broke for air.

Ginny grabbed a firm hold of his shirt, dragging him into the house, up the stairs, and into the bedroom.

Draco was finding it harder and harder to say goodbye to Ginny. The affair had been going on for a few months now, and he was finding the guilt that had once held back his brazenness was barely showing up at all. Ginny was his, Harry was the other, and that was that.

He stroked her soft red hair, enjoying their last few moments before a hectic Christmas holiday apart. Each of them had volunteered to pick up their children from King's Cross, making a convenient excuse for an early lunch at The Savoy and an afternoon waiting for the train in a cab outside the station, "I don't want you to go," he whispered, breathing in her scent, trying to memorize it.

"I don't want to go, but the train arrives in a few minutes," Ginny reluctantly picked her head up off of his shoulder, shutting the book she'd been reading in her lap, "What are the rules," she asked for his repetition.

"The rules," he laid his arm across her shoulders, pulling her close, "No gifts, no owls, no calls, no contact until after Christmas."

"And?" Ginny turned her head to look up at him.

"And when we see one another on the train platform, we don't know each other," Draco agreed, frowning as her watch chimed out. She reluctantly pulled away, tucking her book into her purse, opening the door to the cab, "Boxing Day?"

"Boxing Day," he agreed, "Now go on, don't want to be late."

Ginny nodded and slid out of the cab, pulling on her coat and shutting the door firmly. Kings Cross was busy, as it always was, but she walked with determination. She made it into the main hall before her arm was grabbed and yanked nearly out of its socket.

"Are you kidding me?" Hermione hissed, dragging her across the floor to the woman's restroom. Ginny's mind began to race as Hermione bullied her into a stall for the handicapped, locking the two of them in and blocking the exit. "Muffliato. Ginny. Explain yourself."

"Explain what?" Ginny huffed, even though she knew it would only upset the other woman.

"Explain why anyone with two eyes could observe you and Draco Malfoy playing tonsil tennis in a cab outside," Hermione was furious, obviously so, but somehow all Ginny could think of was being caught by Ron kissing Dean Thomas in a broom closet her fourth year. It took all of her restraint not to laugh.

"He's a good kisser," Ginny bravely admitted, not shying her gaze from Hermione's.

"Ginny!"

"What do you want me to say? You caught me," Ginny sighed, "What you really want to know is if I'm sleeping with him, if I'm cheating on Harry, and for how long. You want to know why Draco, and you want to tell me to stop."

Hermione seemed even more furious that Ginny had taken words from her mouth, "This isn't amusing, Ginny."

"It is to me," Ginny frowned. "Now if you'll let me pass, I have children to retrieve."

"Ginny," Hermione's frown lines could reach the floor if they went any lower.

"We'll talk over Christmas," Ginny acquiesced in compromise, "Not now. I think we can both agree this isn't the time or place," she waited for her sister-in-law to move aside.

"This will crush him, Ginny," Hermione whispered, not moving from her spot. Ginny did not need to ask for clarification on which "he" was meant.

"Hermione, it's not about him," Ginny found herself admitting, "It's about me," she huffed, pushing forward to intimidate Hermione away from the door, "For once," she huffed, tossing open the door and striding through it.
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Promises