And I finally get around to writing a fic around this.

[apolla]

The long-unawaited follow-up to 'With Love' is finally here. Please try to contain your excitement.

 

 

Don’t Stop

 

When Ginny walked out of the door, she had signed her explanatory letter ‘with love’. At the time she’d not thought much on it, being too much in a hurry to get away. Now though, sat in her old room at the Burrow as if she were ten again, she had plenty of time to think things through.

 

Now she was alone with only her thoughts for company, she had plenty of time to think things through. She’d come back to the Burrow specifically so that she wouldn’t have to be alone, but for the first time in her life, they’d all done as she asked when she demanded to be left alone.

 

Wonders would never cease. What she wouldn’t give for her interfering mother to charge in right now and demand to know what was wrong. Of course, Molly wouldn’t listen to what Ginny was actually saying. She always preferred to talk over Ginny about what she thought was the problem. For once, Ginny wanted it to happen- anything was better than sitting here on her own. She briefly contemplated going downstairs to the kitchen. No doubt everyone was sat around the table, gleefully debating which of them hated Draco the most.

 

Easy: Ginny hated him the most.

 

There had been many reasons that she’d finally thrown all her things into a bag and left Draco’s house. Many reasons she didn’t even want to think about herself. He didn’t like her family for one. He was a snobby, little-minded wanker, for another.

 

Mind you, he was the only person she knew that really understood her. That was yet another thing to blame Tom Riddle for. Her experiences in her First year hadn’t outwardly affected her that badly, but she had been left with an inner pool of darkness that nobody around her could touch. None of them even realised it existed and even if they had, they couldn’t hope to understand it.

 

It was a good thing that they couldn’t. They were all essentially good people. It had never been much of a question for any Weasley that they would do things like joining the Order of the Phoenix. They weren’t the sort of people who stood by and let evil prosper. Their family hadn’t been touched by the war back in the 70s, but they’d stood up to be counted just the same. It was just the sort of people they were. She was part of that fine tradition, but it had been much harder for her. She’d been unwittingly seduced by evil once, and she had found it impossible to go back to the way she’d been before. Still good, but tarnished, she liked to think. A slightly off-white knight was what Ginny was.

 

Draco had been exactly the same. He was not, had never been, evil himself, but he’d seen it, felt it, touched it, been seduced unwittingly by it. He understood that darkness within her and had helped her deal with it. Consequently, she had been the only one not taken by surprise by his decision to turn his back on his family and join with the people he disliked so much. She knew that even Professor Snape, who had been in Draco’s position so many years before, had been surprised at the vehemence with which he pushed them away. There was no spying or double agent role for Draco. When the war finally came to him, he stood up to be counted and she had been proud.

 

Of course, she’d never told him what a Weasley thing it was to do. He was an essentially good person, but he was still a snob. It had also been a very Weasley-ish sort of thing to do when she stood up to be counted alongside Draco. No sneaking around for them. She’d always imagined she’d hide such a relationship away (and she had imagined it) but she had not.

 

She never told her family that it was the darkness that bound her so tightly to Draco. It was as if the darkness inside her fed off his and vice versa. She knew it was probably the best way to survive, rather than let her nightmares and memories of Tom take over her life. She still remembered it all vividly, you see, and no matter how many years passed, she still remembered Tom and the things he had said, the things he had made her feel. There was just enough of that in Draco to make it all manageable, and she knew it wasn’t a coincidence that her first Tom nightmare in two and a half years (yes, she counted) came to her on the first night back at the Burrow.

 

It was painful being with Draco, but it had only become unbearably painful towards the end. Before that, it had been an almost pleasant sort of painful. A pain that reminded her, after everything that had happened since Tom, that she was still alive and she could still feel things: pain, pleasure, love and hate.

 

It wasn’t a coincidence that the sharpest examples of all these feelings were inspired by Draco Malfoy. Pleasure from pain, love from hate. That was Draco in the simplest of nutshells. Or, she admitted, it was herself in the simplest of nutshells. It was this that drew her to Draco in the first place, even though it didn’t make sense to a sensible, logical mind. To a sensible, logical mind, Draco was the odious little creep who had tormented her brother and his best friends. Draco had sold all kinds of inaccurate stories to Rita Skeeter. Draco had tormented the entire school, drunk on Umbridge-bestowed power during his Fifth year. He had done so many detestable things during his time at school that she shouldn’t even want to be in the same room as him.

 

And yet, she did. Even sat here in her old room at the Burrow as if she was ten again, she still somehow wanted to be with him. No list of his schoolboy crimes could dissuade her. Not even the long list of crimes perpetrated by his parents could do it. It had been his father to plant that diary in her things. It had been his father who set her up with Tom, but she couldn’t hate Draco for it.

 

Without Tom, she wouldn’t have Draco. Without Tom, she would’ve settled for a Harry Potter or a Michael Corner or a Dean Thomas. Without Tom, she might be happy, she might be content, but she was not without Tom. She would never be without Tom, and she was glad, for that meant she had Draco.

 

Except that she didn’t have Draco anymore. Didn’t even want him. Had left him. Hated him. Never wanted to see him ever again as long as either of them drew breath.

 

Sitting in her old room at the Burrow, she very much wanted to go home. It was at this point that she realised she hadn’t even unpacked her bag on arriving back. She threw her cloak back on, grabbed the bag and went downstairs.

 

“I’m going home,” she declared to the group of people sat around the kitchen table.

 

“All right, dear,” her mother replied quietly, her gaze darting to the back door. Draco Malfoy was leaning up against it. To the rest of the world he looked perfectly fine. Ginny knew better and guessed he hadn’t slept since she left. Served him right.

 

“I’ll be… better. I promise,” he proclaimed, earning several sets of raised eyebrows around the table.

 

“That’s all right,” she said tiredly. “Let’s just go home.”

 

Draco beamed broadly- the kind of smile so rare on his face even Ginny had hardly ever seen it. She’d never seen him look so happy or relieved in her life, and she realised that she had made the right choice in leaving her room. He held his hand out to her and she took it.

 

With one last smile at the people around the table, she went home.

 

The End

 

Author’s Note: This ficlet is a follow-up to ‘With Love’ and was inspired by the Rolling Stones’ song ‘Don’t Stop’ (Jagger/Richards). You can find the song on the album Forty Licks.

Comments

[lissannej.livejournal.com]

I loved the irony that the one time Ginny didn't want to be alone, they all left her alone. Nicely done!

[apolla.livejournal.com]

Thanks honey! Me v. glad you liked :D

*hugs*