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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.

Chapter List
- 5
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Ginny slipped her wedding band off and on her finger as she sat up in bed.

Since being confronted by Hermione at King's Cross, a stone was sitting heavy in her stomach. She was angry with herself for getting so comfortable and brazen about the affair that it was found out so simply. They had been so careful in the beginning. Maybe I wanted to get caught. The fun of the affair seemed to be cooling into inevitable consequence.

Adding to her anxiety, Harry was quieter since the children had arrived; but Ginny was unsure if she was just looking for something to be wrong.

Harry entered the bedroom with his gaze drawn to the floor. He gently clicked the door shut behind him and moved wordlessly to the bathroom they shared, flicking on the light and leaving the door slightly ajar. She could hear him brushing his teeth with his usual vigor. Rinse, spit, brush. Rinse, spit, rinse brush. Twenty years of the same routine. She slid the wedding band back onto her finger and extinguished the lamp by her bedside.

Ginny's heart was beginning to race. She could feel the tension of the room rising, she could sense Harry wanted to get something off his chest. She was dying for the crest, the break in the drama, the resolution.

Harry shuffled to his side of the bed, drawing his feet from his slippers and turning to face her over his shoulder as he removed his watch and set his alarm.

"I think we should get going closer to ten in the morning, rather than eleven," he finally murmured towards her. "I can help Arthur arrange the beds, the boys can collect some wood. Your father is always so overwhelmed in the morning, I think it will really help some."

"Okay," Ginny found herself agreeing, swallowing thickly as he extinguished his lamp and kissed her cheek.

"Goodnight," he murmured before rolling onto his side under the covers.

In the settling darkness she finally laid down, staring up at the ceiling. She felt plagued by one thought, irrational as it was, and it kept her from fully drifting off.

He knows.

Since his divorce had taken a turn towards unpleasantness, Draco's expectations of Christmas had plummeted. He would be without work, without Ginny, for more than a week. In addition, the Greengrass family would be host for the holiday, so he would have to play the role of a polite guest—not his strongest character.

Scorpius, though technically residing at Malfoy Manor until custody was resolved, had begun to act out against his father in response to the finality of his parents' relationship. The slammed doors, the loud music, and the curt, monosyllabic replies were setting Draco on edge.

"He's just a boy," Narcissa would try to explain, swirling blood red wine in her goblet as she gave her weary parental advice. "You were ten times worse at this age."

"He's too smart to pretend he doesn't know what's going on," Draco sighed, rubbing at his temples.

"Maybe he's upset because he knows exactly what is going on," Narcissa offered, returning her wine to the table. "Divorce is awful for children."

"You know this wasn't my choice, Mother," Draco warned her in his most serious tone.

"But you are happier in the long run for it," she remarked. "And so is he."

"I think I will retire for the evening," she excused herself, kissing the top of his head tenderly as she headed for the staircase. "Goodnight, Draco."

Ginny spent most of the morning trying to focus and the rest of it pulling apart at the seams. She made sure her children were packed for the few nights' stay at the Burrow, tossed together an imperfect breakfast, packed up the family's presents; she cried briefly in the shower, watched Harry read the paper, dreaded seeing Hermione in a few hours.

The control she had mastered over her life was slipping from her grip at rapid speed.

Somewhere in the morning of racing thoughts she convinced herself that Harry couldn't possibly know about the affair. She was probably just seeing signs out of fear. That thought was enough to get her out the door and on with the day, trying with champion effort to be the most normal she could be. The clean segmentations she'd drawn: her marriage, her motherhood, and herself were bleeding into one another. The nights and days of dropped pretense had knit the roles together so naturally for her, pulling them apart again felt sloppy and unrehearsed.

Arriving at the Burrow, she tried to let herself get swept up in joy of the holiday. Reunited with her family and the chaos of the bustling household provided her with comforting familiarity and ample distractions. She just had to not doubt herself and things would be fine.

Hermione and Ron arrived in the late afternoon, four more sets of footsteps added to the Burrow's plethora of temporary inhabitants. Rising to greet her niece, nephew, and brother, Ginny wasn't surprised in the least when Hermione volunteered her to help unpack the family into Ron's old room. Though she tried to insist her game of Wizard's chess with Bill was more pressing, her brother admitted he'd been cheating and would be happy to call it a draw. Hermione took that as sign enough, and put on an awful, opaque act to demand Ginny's ear.

"We just have so much to talk about," Hermione pleaded for no one's benefit, the words and sentiment icing Ginny's blood with dread and recoil. Still, she followed Hermione up the stairs, knowing the matter was unavoidable.

As Ginny settled in on Ron's bed, Hermione performed every silencing spell Ginny knew of and some she didn't. "You know I don't have many girl friends," Hermione blurted out, as if she had been holding in the words like held breath. "You know I treasure our friendship, our bond. I haven't told Ron and it's been killing me not to. We don't keep secrets, and I don't keep secrets from Harry either, but I've tried my hardest to honor confidence from you."

Hermione settled onto the bed next to her, "But I don't think I can keep a secret like this much longer, Ginny."

"I don't think you'll have to," Ginny admitted, awkwardly discomforted at the sudden appearance of a confidante. She hadn't thought of Hermione as such a figure in so long.

"Tell me what's going on," she implored. "I promise I will try my hardest not to judge the situation. It's your life, Ginny, but I don't want you to make a mistake you'll regret."

Ginny frowned at the thought. She had spoken up all those years ago, she had quietly admitted she was doubting her love for Harry. Her secret then had fallen on deaf ears.

"Everyone has bad moments, Ginny. No marriage is perfect. You know how Ron and I fight," Hermione began.

"It hasn't been bad moments, Hermione," Ginny interjected impatiently, knotting her hands together as she picked at her own cuticles in distraction. "Harry and I have been having bad years."

"We don't fight, we never fight. We just don't talk, or we don't listen. I can't really tell which is worse," Ginny tried to explain. "I haven't felt like myself, like the real me, in so long. I just resigned myself to being the best version of who he wanted me to be and making it work for the sake of the vows we made."

"And then I met Draco again and everything changed," she whispered Draco's name as if it was the secret alone. To her credit Hermione stayed silent, letting Ginny continue without prodding.

"I was assigned to write a piece on him in September, you remember," Ginny flicked her gaze up to catch Hermione's silent nod before returning it back to her nails, "I slept with him that night for the first time. He could see right through me, right through to my bones. He could see how sad I was. Bored. Drowning. I don't know if I hated it or loved it, but I wanted to feel something and I just wanted to feel it with him. It just happened so fast."

"I'd never been with someone other than Harry," Ginny felt her cheeks flame up and hated herself for it. She shut her eyes and covered her face in shame, or embarrassment, or relief at the secret's airing.

"Later that week he invited me to his office and I intended to just waltz in there and have a little banter and leave. Stupidly I was naive to think that was how things would be. Casual and playful but never crossing that line again," she shook her head, sighing softly. "I was enthralled. Draco can be remarkably pointed about what he wants and how he wants it. It's... intoxicating," she looked up to Hermione. "Are you sure you want to hear all of this?"

Hermione blushed, "I think you need to tell it."

Ginny tucked one leg up on the bed, turning her body to face Hermione's more directly. "We've been meeting once or twice a week ever since, usually in a muggle hotel in the afternoon. Every time Harry is out of town, I spend the night with him. We... he..."

"Do you love him?" Hermione asked softly and Ginny found a lump forming in her throat as she thought carefully.

After a long pause of silence, Ginny found herself nodding an affirmation.

"We don't say it," she immediately clarified. "We never let ourselves say it. But I do. And I think he does. It just got so complicated so fast. He's..."

"You need to tell Harry," Hermione spoke quietly, but sternly. "This is dangerous, and you know it. You were incredibly cavalier at King's Cross. You acted like you didn't care who you hurt in this process, but I know that isn't true. You just need to decide if this is worth ending your marriage over, or if your marriage is worth more, and you need to stick by that decision, Ginny."

Ginny hated the ultimatum but she'd been dancing around it herself for days. "I've tried to break off the affair, I just...can't, Hermione. Draco sees me. Every last imperfection. He accepts me, embraces me."

"But Harry was the man to do that once too, Ginny," Hermione brushed back Ginny's hair in a practiced motherly gesture.

"Everyone in his life has left him, Hermione. His parents, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore," Ginny took a shaky inhale. "I think you know I can't leave him. It's not an option for me. My children would never forgive me, my family, strangers..."

"Then that's your answer," Hermione held her gaze for a long moment, trying to soothe her. It wasn't soothing to Ginny how obviously relieved Hermione was at the idea that the affair would come to an end. As if the other woman was just grateful the matter would be buried, with the least amount of change made to her world view.

"I don't know," Ginny pulled her gaze, running her fingers through her hair, torn now more than ever on what to do.

Hermione nodded, exhaling slowly, "Take out your wand," she requested.

Ginny raised an eyebrow but did as she was told, "Why?"

Hermione smiled sadly, "You are going to cast a Fidelius charm on me. I'll keep the secret. This way I won't be so susceptible to telling Ron or Harry before you feel ready. And if anyone else discovers you with Draco they won't find it to be information worth remembering."

Ginny felt her whole body temperature rise in panic. "Are you sure, Hermione? This is..."

"As long as you promise me I won't have to keep the secret forever," Hermione offered another smile. "We've always been sisters, Ginny. I wish you would have told me sooner."

Ginny wanted so badly to trust Hermione, but the matter would get complicated incredibly quickly as it already had. This is for the best. The redhead pulled herself into strict concentration and brief focus, raising her wand. "Obliviate," she spoke clearly.

A look of confusion came over Hermione's features, fading after a moment into blank pleasantry.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," she spoke gently. "What were we talking about?"

Draco watched the snow fall on the stadium, huge clumped snowflakes lazily dropping from the sky, piling themselves on the deserted pitch below. He was regretting the meeting place, but only because his office was taking longer than expected to warm. He had laid out blankets and pillows, and his charms were only just getting the room to a temperature he felt comfortable taking off his coat in. Two Whiskwhips were waiting resting against his desk, one tied with a happy red bow.

The clock struck midnight and he uncorked the wine, pouring himself a glass and settling in behind his desk to comb over paperwork in the hopes that at any moment he'd pick his head up to find her in his doorway.

She never came.

Ginny took care to wash up and put on perfume before she climbed into bed. She would wait until Harry drifted off and sneak out to the pitch to meet Draco. She would decide in the morning to continue on or end the affair. She would make her decision and stick to it.

Harry smiled at her from the doorway as he shut the door and slid the lock in place. With a cheesy waggle of the eyebrows, he leapt into bed playfully.

Ginny raised an eyebrow of her own at his strange behavior but found his mouth on hers when she went to ask about his actions.

"Perfume," he murmured, kissing down her jaw, across her pulse point. "I know what perfume means. It has been so long, Ginny," his arms were around her, his kisses insistent. "You spoil me," he whispered, one hand cupping her thigh, holding her as the frenzy of kisses slowed.

Draco felt manic, and destructive. After waking up alone in his office on the 27th, he couldn't shake the feeling that his luck had run out.

He spent the majority of the first day after that night trying to distract himself with work. The second day had been spent in bed barely moving. Ginny still hadn't sent word or apologized. The third day was spent mostly drunk or drinking, coming to the realization that the affair was over.

On the fourth day, spectacularly hungover and in a mood of abject self-loathing, Draco agreed to a rough compromise on custody just wanting the matter over with. In an effort to please someone, even Astoria, he reduced his fatherhood to one weekend per month and Christmas or Easter, alternating the holidays by year. It was a shit deal and he knew it, but he signed the paperwork. Astoria's mood remained unchanged. He then resisted the urge to shove his ex-wife onto the train tracks as they jointly sent Scorpius back off to school.

He spent the evening of the fourth day, New Years Eve, drunk again, this time in front of Erised.

The fifth day was spent reliving his life's radical moments in his pensive. More self-loathing, more masochism. His father's will played over and over again, his wedding, Astoria driving him from the Manor, receiving the dark mark, the day Scorpius was born, Ginny at the Savoy, Ginny in his office, Ginny at the Manor, Ginny, Ginny, Ginny.

On the sixth day, Astoria wrote to announce she was getting remarried in the summer. Draco, though grateful his generous alimony would be at an end, couldn't find joy at the news.

On the seventh day, Draco burned every last note he had gotten from Potter's wife.

He burned the few items she'd left behind at the house.

He burned his copy of the article she'd written about him.

He burned the book she'd lent him to read over the holiday.

He burned the broom intended to be her gift.

He shaved, took a sleeping draught, and put the past behind him.

Harry pushed open the shop door, dusting off his boots as he took his first look around at the store he hadn't been in since he was a boy. Though Knockturn had been renamed, adopted as an extension of the Alley and dusted off as 'new', Harry never really felt the element had changed. Lining shelves around the store were visibly dangerous items—mummified animals, pureblood jewels—items not quite dark enough to be illegal but dark enough to bring about doubt in the shop owner's allegiance.

With a few harsh words and the flash of a badge at an easily frightened shop attendant, Harry was directed to the back staircase. Climbing it lead to one door: warped solid wood with silver filigree at eye level.

"Draco Malfoy / Owner" it read, and Harry raised a knuckle for a firm, official knock.

"It's open, Baldock," Draco called out, clearly irritated. "It's always open," he explained, picking his head up from his work as the door swung into the room.

Draco was surprised to recognize his visitor, but hid his surprise well. "Potter. To what do I owe the pleasure," he addressed the man, returning his gaze and his quill to his work as though he couldn't be bothered.

When the door clicked shut, Draco abandoned his quill, and slowly drew his hand under the desk for his wand. It was illegal to curse an Auror but this was unlikely to be a professional call.

Harry pulled his hands from his pockets, showing their emptiness. "Malfoy, if I wanted to hex you, you would be hexed. I would have done it through the window, from the street," he explained, walking around the perimeter of Draco's spacious office, examining objects but knowing better than to touch any of them. He stilled in front of the covered mirror, pausing before turning to Draco for permission, "May I?"

"Sure," Draco leaned back in his chair. "You were probably going to insist anyway," he turned to face Harry more square on, not removing his hand from its grip on his wand.

Harry pulled the heavy velvet curtain aside, smiling as the familiar object came into view, its magic working in the way he remembered. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that possession of this mirror is illegal."

"It is being donated back to the school at the end of the year. I have put in a commission for a new custom frame. The old one was too charred to be salvageable," Draco explained, still on edge by Harry's presence.

Harry nodded, seeming to take that as a good enough answer, replacing the curtain before moving to stand in front of Draco's desk. "Mister Malfoy, I'm afraid to inform you that you have been doing something incredibly dangerous… Playing with fire, so to speak."

"You see, sleeping with another man's wife is incredibly stupid. Sleeping with an Auror's wife is practically suicide."

Draco very badly wanted to roll his eyes in the face of Potter's theatrics, but he kept his gaze trained on Harry's. Green and silver met in perverse balance.

"I don't know what you're referring to," Draco replied dryly, bored by the intimidation.

"Enough," Harry snapped at him, loud and severe in an unexpected way. "I am here to let you know I will not be as generous in my blindness should you contact her again."

"And if fear of your own bodily harm doesn't do the trick, perhaps I should remind you that you are a businessman who relies solely on the favor of the wizarding population. I'm sure you understand what a public allegation of dark magical artifacts refurbished and sold by a former Death Eater could do to dissuade confidence in this establishment," Harry's eyes narrowed but never wavered.

The two men stared at one another for a long moment. In many ways they were born to be rivals: evenly matched in build, wit, and passion. As boys, their different levels of courage separated them in a way that had evened out as Draco grew into himself.

Unable to hold back his cheek, Draco broke the silence first. "It must truly kill you that she came to me," he taunted. "Well... came with me. And on me. And around m—"

Draco was impressed at the speed of Harry's draw, finding himself at the unfortunate end of an Asphyxia hex before he could finish his thought. Feeling his windpipe crush under an invisible weight in a moment that seemed infinite, Draco flailed an arm in surrender and the charm released. Gasping in air, and coughing as he filled his lungs, Draco's mind raced to retaliate. When he looked up in rage, ready to speak again, Harry had already gone.

For the first time in years, Ginny felt desire for her husband. His kisses slowed from their frenzy, showing focus and determination. With Hermione's words ringing in her ears, Ginny let fear guide her decision. I can't leave him, she thought.

"Slow down," she whispered sweetly, cupping the back of his neck to regain control of the moment. When his body had stilled, she slid back the sheets, pulling him to rest between her legs. His eyes met hers and she rewarded him with a willing kiss. "We have all night," she whispered, and she could feel Harry's sunshine grin against her skin as she plucked his glasses from his face, reaching to put them on the bedside table.

"I knew you'd come back to me," he whispered into a kiss against her neck, barely audible.

He'd spoken so soft she wasn't sure she heard it at first.

In hindsight she wished she hadn't.
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