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Title: What Ginny Forgot

Summary: "After one too many hits to the head from a Bludger, you've forgotten the past ten years," Malfoy said slowly, staring at her as if she were dumb. "You've forgotten you have kids and you've forgotten me. Your husband. Which is rather rude, you must admit." D/G

Disclaimer: None of it is mine!

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December 26th

She stirred awake from her sleep, reaching for him.

Her fingers ghosted over his side of the bed, waiting to brush along his warm skin, ready to make contact. When the only thing she felt was the cold sheets, a jolt of worry shot through her. She opened her eyes.

Something was wrong.

It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room before she grasped what was amiss. Draco wasn't sleeping in bed beside her. She stared in surprise, wondering if he had woken up early. But, when she looked around the room and noted that the sun had barely risen, she knew that couldn't be the case. Perhaps he had trouble falling asleep the night before, insomnia striking him as it often did, and he had opted—

Realization crept up on her slowly, and she rolled onto her back. Her gaze traced over the ceiling as she recalled where Draco was: Blaise's. He had left the night before. Ginny wouldn't find him in his study or the library or outside, looking over the yard. The reminder of this made her stomach clench painfully, and she groaned out loud, angry with herself. She had woken up plenty of times before without Draco by her side—sometimes it had seemed like the spot in bed beside her was empty for months unless one of the children filled it. This was no different from then. She was fine.

Unease washed over her. Instead of analyzing the feeling, Ginny rolled out of bed and headed to the kitchen. It was earlier than when she normally woke up, and if it had been any other day she would have tried to fall back into a slumber. But sleep had been chased away by the absence of her husband. She might as well get a head start on things. The children would be up in a few hours and would likely bombard her with questions about why their dad wasn't staying at the house with them for the next two weeks. Orion in particular had been the most concerned when Draco and Ginny sat the children down for dinner the night before. They had chosen to tell the children the truth: Draco was going to live with Blaise for a little bit, but he was still going to come by and hang out with them or pick them up and take them for sleepovers. They hadn't delved into why and the children hadn't asked, though Orion had stared at the both of them with calculating eyes.

It wasn't permanent, they promised the children. Ginny hoped they hadn't lied. Because, really, this situation wasn't as clean cut as she and Draco had made it seem. Before he left, they had briefly gone over what days he'd take the children, an idea that frightened her more than she liked to admit, and had agreed on what time each night he'd talk to the kids through Floo. The new setup was eerily similar to how they had already been living the past couple years. Was this separation really going to somehow fix all their issues?

She wasn't sure, despite agreeing to it.

When Ginny reached the kitchen, she began to brew coffee mindlessly, gnawing on her bottom lip. Birds were beginning to wake outside, calling to each other as the sun continued to brighten the sky. Ginny listened to them. Once the coffee was done, she mixed tiny dollops of cream and sugar in the dark liquid, stirring it until it was as she liked.

Without permission, she thought of Draco only days ago reintroducing her to coffee. It was so easy to envision him in the kitchen that morning, face blank but body relaxed as he waited for her to take her first sip.

Pushing the memory away, Ginny headed towards her study. There were letters waiting there from her friends and family, letters that she had been ignoring since the day before. The idea of writing back to her mum after Draco had proposed the idea of moving out of the house, of trying to convince her mum that she was fine while also trying to convince herself the same… well, it hadn't been appealing. Honestly, she had been surprised that Molly and Arthur hadn't shown up at some point yesterday, ready to find out why she had been at the Burrow on Christmas Day instead of at home with her husband and children.

Ginny had a feeling she'd have to thank Charlie for stopping that from happening.

She padded quietly across the library, heading towards the shelf that her study hid behind. Pulling down the book that allowed her entry, Ginny watched as the shelf disappeared, revealing the entrance to her tiny den. The familiarity of it brought some relief to her. Reaching down, she grabbed one of the knitted blankets piled on the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then she took a seat behind the desk.

A stack of letters awaited her, each addressed to Ginny Malfoy. Ginny sighed into her mug, staring down at them. Yesterday, after talking to Draco, she had asked him to take any of the letters addressed to her down to her study while she showered away the grime from the day before. She had said it without thought, inviting him into her only private spot in the house without accompanying him. When his eyebrows had ticked upwards, the memory of the last time he had been in her den hit her so forcibly she had to look away from him.

Why had he been in there that night—the night that, at the time, had seemed like the beginning of the end? Had Draco been going through her things? Is that how he had found the divorce papers for Luna? Or had she left them on the desk and he had happened to stumble upon them?

But Draco had done as she asked, and Ginny had bit her tongue in order to not question him harshly. It hadn't been the time to fight, not after their early morning conversation, not when the children would be waking soon.

Ginny opened the first letter. It was from her mum, worriedly asking why she had been at the Burrow. The next, also her mum, demanding a response before she came to the house. The third was from Harry, checking to make sure she was okay. The fourth, Charlie, informing her she had about a day before their mum stormed Ginny's house to interrogate her. The fifth, her mum once more. The sixth, Maggie, wishing her a Happy Christmas. The last, Hermione, wondering if everything was alright and asking when a good time would be to meet up.

Responding to the letters left her little time to think. She promised her mum that she was fine and she'd stop by the Burrow for dinner in a few days with the children. She wrote back to Harry and Charlie, thanking them and assuring them she was fine. She wished Maggie a Happy Christmas and New Year back, promising to see her soon. On Hermione's letter, though, she hesitated. The urge to discuss everything she had kept hidden the last few years with a friend poked at her, reminding her that she couldn't keep this all bottled up without going crazy.

Ginny needed to talk to someone. She knew that.

Blaise wouldn't be free, not with Draco currently staying in one of his spare bedrooms. The idea of writing to Luna, of discussing the true purpose of the divorce papers, made her palms sweat. Though there was always a chance that anything she told Hermione would get back to Ron and Harry, Ginny wasn't sure if she actually cared. The idea of trying to hide anything more from her family made her shoulders sag with exhaustion. And wouldn't everyone find out something was wrong soon enough if the next two weeks didn't go smoothly? Maybe, if anything, it was time to be honest with everyone in her life about what had been going on over the last few years.

And Hermione… Hermione had known something was wrong Christmas Eve. Hermione had been the one to retrieve the divorce papers for Ginny. Hermione was involved in the situation whether she wanted to be or not. Would she not be the best person to confide in?

"Granger? Granger gave the papers to you?"

Closing her eyes, Ginny rubbed at her forehead where a dull ache was beginning to form. She could hear his voice so clearly in her head—strained, uneven, hurt. Opening her eyes again, Ginny stared down at the blank piece of parchment.

She should invite Hermione over. She should tell her everything. She should. Yet Ginny hesitated, a drop of ink falling from the tip of the quill she held and staining the parchment below. It wasn't a good idea to keep all this hidden from her loved ones. They'd find out eventually. But… but as tiring as it was hiding this from her family and friends, having to explain to each of them what was going on seemed a harder mountain to climb.

A couple days, that was all she needed. Ginny needed a couple days to process it all and get her mind right and spend some real, quality time with the children. Then she'd be ready. Just a few days to think over everything then she'd have Hermione over for tea and tell her the truth. Maybe afterwards she'd open up to everyone else too.

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It was far too easy to fall back into the old rhythm of life before the accident. Breakfast had gone far smoother than Ginny had anticipated. Orion hadn't questioned her like she had imagined he would. She had braced herself, making them waffles and eggs and cutting up fruit, tense and worried and unsure of how she'd answer everything by herself. But the questions never came. Gray had happily chatted away about the new presents still scattered around the library. Lyra had kept Marion Marie Margaret in her lap as she passed strawberries off her plate and to her brothers, making soft meowing sounds to the cat as she did so. Orion had remained silent, a thoughtful expression painted on his young face as his light eyes darted around the kitchen.

They all moved to the library after breakfast, as they often did, and passed the time organizing the children's presents. Orion helped Gray stack up some of his new books alphabetically on one of the lower shelves, after Ginny had cleared it of books that had remained untouched for ages. Some of the dusty books had been pregnancy books that Hermione had given Ginny when Ginny first found out she was pregnant with Orion. She had held the books close to her chest, memories of reading them with Draco by her side haunting her, before putting them on her desk in her den. The children hadn't noticed how wet her eyes had become. Lyra opened up a paint set. Yolly came by with treats around lunch. The day passed by lazily.

It was almost easy to forget that there was a person missing from the family. Only in the quiet of the day, when the children were huddled amongst each other giggling and Ginny was left alone with her thoughts as she looked out the window, would Draco's absence become apparent to her.

He should be here.

The thought—a whisper—would come to her, and it was her voice, unwelcome but new, urgent but confident, and she'd clench her hands into fists at her side and push it away.

It was his fault that he was gone, it was his idea. If he hadn't signed those bloody papers none of this would have happened. The anger that would hit her was breathtaking. Because, hell, Draco—he didn't deserve to be here. His blatant disregard for their marriage when he confronted her on their anniversary, how dare he—

But the confident whisper still lingered, and she'd feel his absence, curled in her stomach, as heavy as a Bludger. Merlin, she wanted him here, even if it was just to shout at him. It wasn't fair that she was left so conflicted. She hated that he got off so easy. Because he did, didn't he? He had a week to process their changing relationship while her memory was gone. He took those days to realize he wanted to work on their marriage when he had previously been ready to walk out on it. He had remembered what it was like to be happy with Ginny—happy with the Ginny who didn't remember their history, not the Ginny he had left on the staircase after their fight.

Only when one of the children would call for her, distracting her, would the feelings hide away, burrowing under her skin like a parasite.

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December 27th

She should've spoken to him when he Flooed the children the night before. Ginny had gone to the library, had stationed the children in front of the fire several minutes before the allotted time, and had come up with an excuse to leave the room right before she heard the familiar whoosh of the flames, signaling Draco's appearance. The children's squeals of excitement had rung in her ears as she hid in the corridor, her back pressed against the wall, hand covering her mouth.

He hadn't asked for her, hadn't questioned where she was, and Ginny wasn't sure whether she was glad for that or not. Coward. The word taunted her. But the idea of seeing Draco had filled her with fear and anger and longing, a combination of emotions that had left her unbalanced, as though she was teetering on the edge of a cliff. A simple gust of wind could send her falling, but the decision to step back would keep her safe on the ground—she wasn't sure which was the right choice.

Hiding away seemed the simpler of the two options because Ginny didn't know if seeing Draco would help her or hinder her. And what about him? What would he think, seeing her the day after leaving their home, after telling her he had faith in them, after begging her to let him fix it? What if she wasn't ready to let him fix it, like she had thought she was?

She was a coward; she should've gone in and spoken to him, she should've studied his face in the green hue of the flames and waited to see how she felt about it all.

Inhaling deeply, Ginny closed her eyes and lifted her head. The curtain of wet hair that shielded her face parted and the shower water pelted her cheeks, her lips, her eyelids. It helped distract her. She had slept horribly the night before, waking constantly and looking at Draco's side of the bed, expecting him to be there. For the first time in a long time, the bedroom felt empty without him. Ginny wasn't sure when that feeling had dissipated over the years, but it was startling to realize it had crept back over the last week. So she had left her bed far earlier than normal once more, jumped into the hot shower, and allowed her thoughts to take over.

Because what if she had seen Draco last night and lost it? What if she hadn't been able to hold back and had yelled at him, cried to him? Ginny wouldn't allow the children to see her like that, ever. They deserved better. Lingering outside the library, out of sight, and listening to the familiarity of Draco's voice was definitely the safest route to take. Even if the whole time she was wondering if the hints of exhaustion, of disappointment, that she had heard were real or not…

"Stop it," Ginny said aloud, turning her face away from the water and opening her eyes.

There were other things to worry about than whether she should've spoken to Draco last night or not. He had only been gone a day. This wasn't the end of the world. She had done this before. If only her thoughts weren't so messed up, if only this past week hadn't happened, everything would be much easier.

Maybe tonight she'd sit beside the children in the library and look her husband in the eyes. Maybe she'd see something there that would help calm the storm inside of her. Maybe today she'd come to some sort of conclusion on how she felt about the situation.

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December 28th

The sound of something crashing loudly echoed throughout the house but it didn't startle either of the women in the library. They were both far too used to the messes their children created. Hermione's eyes flitted up to the ceiling, though, as she waited. Then, when Rose yelled—"Nothing to worry about! Promise!"—followed by muffled giggles, Hermione's gaze returned to Ginny's. Ginny wanted to shift uneasily but didn't.

It had been surprising when there had been a knocking at the front door after breakfast and Ginny opened it to find Hermione, Rose, and Hugo waiting on the porch. Hermione had stared at her, eyes bright with concern, before asking if they could come in. Apparently, Hermione's patience had worn thin over Ginny's vague owl the other day about meeting up. The time had come to tell someone what had happened between her and Draco, whether Ginny wanted to or not, for Ginny knew Hermione wouldn't leave until she was sure Ginny was okay.

Now, after telling Hermione the truth, finally admitting to everything that had happened over the last few years, Ginny was too drained to react. She had thought she wouldn't want to share her secrets with anyone right away, she had thought she needed time to think over everything that had occurred between her and her husband, but she had been wrong. The words had spilled from her lips with little prompting.

"I can't believe you've hidden this from us for so long," Hermione finally said. "I had no idea."

Frustration made Hermione's lips tighten, an expression Ginny recognized from throughout the years.

"I must be an excellent actress if I managed to fool even you," Ginny tried to tease but her voice sounded strained.

Hermione's eyes narrowed a fraction. Then, she sighed.

"I'm not sure how I didn't see the signs. You would both seem a little off every now and again, of course, but I knew how hard Draco was working and how tired you were with the children… I should've offered you more help."

Ginny shook her head.

"I didn't ask for help. And I didn't tell you all of this to make you feel bad."

"But I do feel bad," Hermione admitted, reaching over and grabbing onto Ginny's hand. "I should've realized you were unhappy. I was too caught up in my own life, I suppose, and—"

Shocked laughter spilled from Ginny's lips, interrupting Hermione. Ginny rushed to cover her mouth with her free hand, to not offend her, but it was no use. Hermione released her grip on Ginny, eyebrows furrowing. She leaned back, eyeing Ginny as though she'd gone mad.

"Are you laughing at me?"

Ginny lowered her hand, grinning.

"No! I mean… well, maybe a little. I just thought you'd be, I don't know, mad at me about all of this. But instead you're mad at yourself for being caught up in your own life. I'm relieved, honestly."

And she was. Hermione's reaction was the exact opposite of what Ginny had expected. Anger at Ginny for not telling her the truth, sharp words in an attempt to knock some sense into her, advice that was long overdue, perhaps—but this? Guilt over having not noticed something was wrong? That was a far kinder reaction than Ginny deserved.

"I'd never be mad at you! I only wish you would've told me sooner or that I would've noticed. How did you manage it all these years?"

"I messed up. He messed up," Ginny said, her laughter leaving her as quickly as it came. "I had hoped we could fix it at some point. But then Draco found the divorce papers and I had my accident."

"And now he's gone?"

At Hermione's question, Ginny lifted her feet onto the chair. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, feeling like a small child. Hermione watched Ginny worriedly.

Ginny nodded, throat tight.

"How'd the kids take it?"

"I'm not sure Gray and Lyra really understand it. They're used to Draco being away so much already, so I think they imagine Draco's just… staying at Blaise's for work, maybe? But Orion…"

Ginny trailed off, thinking of Orion's silence on the subject. She had expected him to be more vocal on what was happening, since she had foolishly told him about her memory loss, but he was shockingly quiet. Perhaps bringing it up to him was the best option, to make sure he was really okay. But maybe he didn't think anything was horribly wrong. Maybe bringing it up was the wrong decision and she should let it lay to rest.

She tapped her fingers nervously against the arm of the chair.

"It's only for two weeks, though," Hermione said when Ginny didn't finish her thought.

"Yeah."

"How are you feeling?"

Tiredly, Ginny ran a hand down her face. How did she feel? The past few days, Ginny was sure she had experienced every emotion known to humans. But how could she explain that to Hermione?

"Confused," Ginny replied, after a long second. "I'm angry at both of us. Furious at him, really, for signing those papers. I'm glad everything is back to normal, that I remember the kids and my life and—and I know the truth, but… but it's not back to normal. I feel like he should be here with me, even though I don't know if I should want him to be."

"You think it's a good idea, then? Him being gone from the house?" Her voice had lowered slightly, even though the children were all upstairs. Ginny could hear their footsteps as they raced from one bedroom to the next. "Clearly, you must have or you wouldn't have agreed to it."

"I think Draco was right when he said us sharing the same living space after… after everything would be too hard, if we wanted to actively try to fix our marriage. Before the accident, we had been okay, and I thought it was going to get fixed, but then it didn't. When he found the papers, the things we said to each other… but after my accident, everything was different. He was different."

"Kinder?"

Ginny hesitated, trying to find the right words. She thought of how he stayed beside her in bed when she asked him to because she was too afraid of being alone. How he saved her any time the children suspected something was off. The shared cigarette at the Ministry Ball. His eyes when she caught him watching her, softer than she had seen them in ages.

There had been so many little moments that showed a side of Draco Ginny hadn't seen in so long.

"He had been trying. I feel like he hasn't tried in years. And Merlin, Hermione, it worked. I was worse than when I had a crush on Harry my first year. I fell in love with Draco so quickly it made my head spin."

The comparison between Harry and Draco forced a giggle from Hermione, who promptly snapped her lips shut. Ginny snorted in response, her lips lifting in amusement as she dropped her feet back to the ground. It felt good—well, maybe not good but relieving—to be able to find some humor in her situation.

"It was horrible. I had dropped plates and spilled juice on poor Lyra, and I could hardly look at Draco without going red in the face."

"Did he tease you about it?"

"No, he didn't," Ginny said softly, recalling the slight twitch of Draco's lips when he'd notice her do something embarrassing. He had never laughed at her about it, though, or brought it up to her. "Blaise did."

"Shocking."

"I just—I keep remembering all our fights and how bad it had been before. How much I resented him. My… my insecurities. How upset I had been because he had signed away our marriage, the life we had built, without wanting to talk to me about it. I can't get it out of my head, as much as I try. It's like some warning, a reminder, of how bad it had been. I have trouble falling asleep, I can't have a moment of quiet without these thoughts forcing themselves forward. I haven't been able to sit in when he's talking to the children through the Floo. It's all driving me mad," she rambled. Then Ginny paused, inhaling slowly through her nose to calm herself. "But then I think about the past week. It was so easy to fall back in love with him, Hermione, it really was. It was like… flying on the first broom you had ever trained on, after years of not using it. Or opening your favorite book when it's been collecting dust on the shelf. It felt right and like home. And I remember that too, it's like… it's what calms the anger I feel about all the other stuff."

Ginny licked her dry lips and leaned forward, grabbing her mug of tea that had gone cold off the table. She had made the pot of tea while Hermione shooed the children upstairs with threats of sending them to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to help Ron unpack and shelf new merchandise. When the women finally sat down in the library, the truth spewed out of Ginny with no control, and the cups of tea she had poured had remained untouched. The cold liquid helped soothe Ginny now, wetting her parched throat.

"My mind feels completely muddled," Ginny admitted after several long minutes, setting the cup back on the table.

"Then I'll take the children."

Ginny blinked.

"No, no, that's not what I was asking."

"I know you weren't asking that," Hermione replied briskly. "But it's what you need—some time to think without anyone bothering you. Isn't that the reason Draco left? So that his presence wouldn't influence your thoughts? He must have realized how confused you'd be after the past week. Having the children here will only be a distraction. I'll take them with me for the night."

Ginny was already shaking her head. Before Draco had left the house, they had taken the time to plan out the two weeks he'd be gone. Draco didn't want to leave Ginny with the children the whole time, and they had agreed on dates for him to pick up the kids and keep them for the night. The idea of it terrified Ginny—the house would be silent, empty without their laughter and chatter, and she'd be alone—but she wasn't willing to deny Draco his time with their children. After all, how often over the past few years had she wanted him to focus on the kids and not on his work?

But it felt hard to breathe whenever she thought of being completely by herself.

"Draco's going to take them soon for a night."

"Oh, well," Hermione paused. "That's good. I'm glad. It will be good for him to be with the children and for you to have that time to think."

Ginny nodded, absentmindedly twisting her wedding ring.

"Yeah, I have plenty of work to catch up on. I'm going to reach out to my boss about stopping by when Draco takes the kids. I'm surprised I haven't been fired already."

"You had an accident—you lost your memory! He can't fire you for that. If he did, it could spell serious trouble for him with the Ministry, especially considering how well-known the Daily Prophet is."

Before Hermione could start a full-blown rant, Ginny cut in.

"I know, but I'm not really sure what Draco told him about my sudden absence from work. I doubt it had anything to do with me losing my memory. My boss hasn't reached out to me about it, though, so Draco must've told him something convincing. Either way, with the children gone I'll be able to catch up a bit on my articles that I haven't touched in days. It will help keep me distracted."

Ginny's eyes darted to the fireplace as she spoke. When she looked back, she noticed Hermione was watching her closely.

"But you'll take time to think about everything that's happened?"

Ginny blinked.

"It's all I've been thinking about," she confessed.

Thinking about it but doing nothing to help the situation. Hiding in the corridor every night at six-thirty when Draco would speak to the children through Floo. Something must've shown on Ginny's face, for Hermione's expression softened.

"Ginny, what's your plan, exactly? You'll wait out the two weeks till Draco comes back and hope everything magically fixes itself?"

"No, that'd be stupid of me. I… I think…"

What was her plan?

The time without Draco had given her little clarity over their situation. Honestly, without her husband by her side for a third day, she was still as confused on how to deal with their situation as she had been when he suggested leaving. She had simply agreed with him staying at Blaise's and assumed the time apart would help them. Somehow. But she wasn't sure seeing him or inviting him back to the house would help at all.

She fought back a groan as her thoughts whirled.

The last thing Ginny wanted to do right now was think up a strategy for the next eleven days. But, of course, it was Hermione she was speaking to, who was all about plans and figuring things out and organization. And, really, Ginny didn't have any idea of what she was supposed to be doing.

"Don't bury yourself in your work."

Ginny snorted at Hermione's words.

"You're one to talk," Ginny shot back, not unkindly.

"I'm serious. You need to use this time wisely. Figure yourself out. You're different than before the accident. I can see it. Don't waste this time you have! I'm not saying I'm positive Draco leaving the house was the best choice, but he's gone and you need to take whatever advantage of that you can. Your time alone—don't waste it."

As it often did, Hermione's advice came out brisk and stern. Ginny frowned but couldn't fight against what Hermione said. It had been Draco's intention to use the separation to figure out his thoughts and to make sure working on the marriage was the healthiest thing for their family. That's what he had said to her, desperation lingering in his eyes as he waited for her answer.

But what did she need to do with this time alone? Figure yourself out, Hermione had said. She was trying to; didn't Hermione see that? Or maybe she hadn't been trying to figure herself out as much as she was trying to figure out what to do about this relationship. There was a difference. Frowning, Ginny tried to think of the last time she had done something just for herself—not for the kids, not for Draco, not for the Malfoy name, not for her brothers and parents.

She bit down on her lip hard when she realized she couldn't think of anything. Getting a job with the Daily Prophet? Was that the last time she had done something solely for her own pleasure?

"I'm going to try," she promised.

Hermione's eyebrows lifted.

"You're not lying to me, are you?"

Ginny's mouth twitched into a smile.

"I'm not lying."

"Good."

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

December 29th

The children were chasing each other around the backyard, their loud giggles seeming to echo in the large, empty space. Despite the fact that it hadn't snowed in days, the snow looked as fresh as when it had fallen before Christmas. As always, the children were delighted by this. Orion had quite a talent of creating perfectly round, compact snowballs that he used to threaten his siblings with. He knew better than to throw them in Lyra or Gray's face, as the twins had done many times to Ginny and Ron growing up, but he liked to remind them he could.

Arthur chuckled beside her when Lyra let out a particularly shrill giggle after Orion threw a snowball at her, barely missing her. Orion had good aim—Ginny liked to think he got that from her—so she knew his miss was intentional.

"I didn't mean to intrude," her dad said suddenly, breaking the silence between them. Ginny looked away from the kids and up at him. "Your mum was going to come by—she wasn't happy with your owl back—but I told her I'd stop by on my lunch break to check in on you."

Apparently, no one was pleased with her responses to their owls. Her dad had shown up ten minutes before noon, startling the children and Ginny equally as they had been distracted watching Orion show off the different potions in his potions kit. Though Ginny had looked forward to a day alone with the children, Arthur was certainly better than Molly when it came to unannounced visits. She could only imagine the many conversations her mum would've tried to have already with her. Instead, her dad had shown up with a weary smile, giving each of the kids a kiss on the top of their head before following suit with Ginny. They had eaten lunch together before deciding to head outside to let the children burn off some energy.

Reaching over, Ginny squeezed his gloved hand.

"You're never intruding, Dad," she replied, smiling up at him. "I'm happy to see you. The kids, too."

He gripped her hand back.

"Draco's at work?"

Ginny nodded, releasing his hand to wrap her arms around herself.

"The party was nice, on Christmas Eve," Arthur continued. "It's always nice, having everyone together on the holidays. We appreciate the work you and Draco put into it. I'm not sure everyone would fit into the Burrow if we couldn't do it here."

She smirked at the idea of it. Growing up, the Burrow would be bursting at the seams if two or three additional people ever came by. Bill's wedding had been a particularly trying time; everyone had been about ready to kill each other. If Draco and Ginny didn't open their house up to everyone for Christmas Eve, she wasn't sure where they'd all go. There were simply too many of them now.

"We're happy to do it."

A comfortable silence fell over them and Ginny leaned her head on Arthur's shoulder. Her dad wasn't one to force his children to talk about something if they didn't want to, unlike her mum—though, granted, her mum had a habit of knowing something was wrong whether they wanted her to or not. Arthur would simply wait for the child to come to him, and he'd sit quietly and listen before offering advice, if there was any to give.

The summer after her first year at Hogwarts, Arthur had sat her down alone and told her he'd never judge her if she came to him about anything worrying her again, that he only wanted her to know she could come to him, to never be afraid to talk to him. He had made sure she understood that. The few times Ginny had gone to her dad after—tearfully about Cedric Diggory's death, grumbling about stupid Michael Corner, nervously about the war, cold and quiet after Fred—he had never belittled her thoughts. He listened intently, listened until she was done with her rambling. And he'd respond to her truthfully, always.

Ginny glanced over at him, studying the wrinkles by his mouth, the graying red hair that peeked out of the cap Molly must've knitted him, the light blue of his eyes that reminded her so much of Orion. He turned to her, meeting her gaze, and his smile brightened. She wasn't ready to talk to her dad about her problems with Draco, but there was something else she could talk to him about.

"Dad… over the years, did you ever feel like, I don't know, like you lost yourself a bit?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you married Mum and had all of us, and you were working all the time, did you ever feel like you lost a chunk of yourself? Like you couldn't remember who you were underneath… underneath your marriage and us and the Ministry?"

Arthur reached up, rubbing at his chin as he listened to her. Then, after a long moment, he nodded.

"It can be hard to remember there are things outside of work and raising a family worth investing your time in. I mean, raising a family is something I'm very proud to invest my time in, always has been, and we're still doing it, me and your mum. Your children never get too old, you know, you never stop raising them. But it's not easy, remembering you were a person before you had kids. I used to take your mum to watch Muggle football games on the hill outside my parents' house, when we first started spending time together. We had no clue what the Muggles were doing, but it was fun. Tradition, really, we did it every summer until Bill came along."

Ginny was grinning as her dad spoke, trying to picture her parents watching a game of football and pretending to know what was going on. Dean had always enjoyed football and had taken great measures to make sure Ginny understood the sport when they had dated back at Hogwarts. She was sure her parents hadn't caught on quite as easily as she had.

"We had to stop doing a lot of things we used to do when you kids came along. We weren't mad about it, never, but it does seem to take a piece of you with it, when you give up some of the things you used to love to start a family. But you kids gave us something new and exciting, you gave us a lot of love and knowledge by letting us help you grow up." His eyes were warm as they held her gaze. "There are ways to remember who you are, too. Fabian and Gideon, they had helped me build the shed behind the house after Charlie had come along, to give me some space for my tinkering. Didn't understand my interest in Muggles, but they had come home once and saw all my trinkets mixed in with the boys' toys and had got to work. Sometimes on my lunch break I still wander through Muggle London and explore some of the shops, or just sit on a bench to watch the people—it'll give me ideas of what to do next in the shed. I used to feel rotten, you know, not going home to help your mum then with you kids, but we all need a bit of time to ourselves, it's only fair."

He paused.

"Your mum, after Percy came along, she felt a bit lost, I suppose, like what you're saying. She had always wanted to be a mother, mind you, but your mum had always been a busybody and used to go down to town all the time and talk with the neighbors or swing by the Ministry with sweets for us, and she wasn't able to as much with Percy, Bill, and Charlie around. Felt a bit cooped up, understandably. I came home one day and she had torn up the whole backyard, dirt smeared all over her face, the boys running around in only diapers. She had told me she wanted a garden in the backyard, that if I got a shed, then she got a garden. Put a lot of time and care into that garden. Fed you children with it, made potions from some of the things that grew back there. It gave her an excuse to head down to town again, selling some of the vegetables there when she had time. The neighbors appreciated that, appreciated her. She still takes care of the garden to this day."

"We spent a lot of time out there, growing up," Ginny remembered, a fond smile coloring her face.

Arthur made a happy sound of agreement.

"What I'm trying to say, I guess, Gin… Having something for yourself is very important. I had my shed, your mum had the garden. There were times, of course, that it'd get hard. It was different back then. The war. The worry and fear. When it was all over, though… Sometimes I'd stay in Muggle London after work and your mum didn't bother me too much about it, coming home after dark. And sometimes she'd leave me with the kids so she could walk some of the vegetables over to the neighbors and would end up gone most of the day. We just had to work together, I suppose, and make sure we both had time away for ourselves."

"I've been feeling like I lost myself a little recently," she admitted, lowering her eyes to her lap. "I don't know how to get myself back to normal."

At her confession, her dad wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. She leaned into his warmth.

"Do something that you haven't done in a while. Do something you love. See if it helps ground you."

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

December 30th

"Can you give your brother his cloak, Orion, please?"

"It's my cloak!"

"You grew out of that cloak two years ago. Give it to Gray, please, before your father gets here."

"But it was my favorite! Dad got it for me."

Ginny stopped attempting to pull Lyra's hair into a somewhat neat bun to give Orion a look. He was stubbornly holding the dark blue cloak that Gray had worn since autumn of this year to his chest. Gray was waiting patiently beside his brother, more amused by Yolly balancing the children's overnight bags than worried over the argument between Orion and Ginny.

Any minute now Draco was set to pick up the children for their night over at Malfoy Manor. As if the idea of being without the children wasn't enough to make Ginny anxious, she was going to see Draco for the first time in five days. Five days. The idea of it made her nauseous; she wasn't sure if it was because she wanted to see him or because she wanted to hide away.

Sighing, Ginny leaned back on her heels, tilting her head.

"You've never cared about that cloak before now. You've always been okay with Gray wearing it."

"I just want to wear it today, Mum!"

"But it's too small for you, isn't it?"

Orion clenched his jaw, but, after a long moment, nodded in agreement. The fact that Ginny preferred to let Gray wear Orion's old clothes, as long as they weren't in a state of disrepair, had been a fight long ago between Draco and Ginny. She didn't see the sense in buying new stuff when they had clothes in perfectly good shape, and Draco couldn't understand why she wouldn't let them toss the old clothes and purchase new clothes more in style. Now, she wished she would've let Draco win that fight.

"Can Gray wear it? I have your cloak right over here, darling."

He didn't respond. She could see his hands clench the cloak tighter to his chest, as if Ginny was going to come and rip it from his hands.

"You'll look silly going out wearing that cloak. It won't cover your ankles and you don't want cold ankles, do you?"

Lyra started giggling, twirling in her spot in front of Ginny. Orion's frown deepened before he held the cloak away from his chest, towards Gray. Gray took it without complaint and shrugged it on.

"Thank you, Orion."

A curt knocking at the door made Ginny look away from her sons. Eyebrows furrowing, she stood up and barely held back a groan. Her legs ached from being in a squat so long, trying to do Lyra's hair. She needed to start stretching again.

The knocking came again, and Ginny walked up to the door. She had thought that Draco would enter the house without knocking. It was still his home, after all. Unless, of course, he felt like he didn't belong here anymore. A shiver raced down Ginny's back at the thought as she reached for the doorknob. She licked her lips when she noticed how shaky her hands were.

Rolling her eyes at herself and silently hoping she'd stay composed during this meetup, Ginny pulled the door open. She forced a smile. It fell in surprise. The familiar face before her was not the one she expected.

"Blaise," Ginny greeted dumbly.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Blaise cocked his head when their eyes met. Draco had told her he'd be the one picking up the children. He had told her the kids would be spending the night at Malfoy Manor with him and his mother. Why was Blaise here?

"Are you—"

"Here for the monsters? Yes."

A movement behind Blaise made Ginny's attention shift, but it wasn't Draco, though he'd be horrified to realize for a moment she thought it was. It was Ladbey, Narcissa's only remaining house-elf. Draco had told her he'd bring Ladbey over with him to get the children. Ladbey gave a squeak of acknowledge when Ginny looked at him, shivering slightly. Ginny knew she should move, should invite them into the house, but it felt like someone hit her with a Leg-Locker curse. When she looked back at Blaise, she realized he had been intently studying her expression. He was clearly holding back a smirk.

But… but Draco wasn't here. Why had he sent Blaise to their house to pick up the kids? Had he not wanted to see Ginny? Did the idea of coming to his home and seeing her repulse him so horribly that he had to send someone else instead?

"Ginny dear, your mother-in-law's house-elf is about to turn into an icicle out here if you don't invite us in," Blaise informed her. "I'm not sure that would send the right message."

"Oh, right! I'm sorry, come in. Ladbey, do you need any tea?"

Ladbey shook his head, large ears flapping, as he passed by Ginny to bask in the warmth of the foyer. The smirk Blaise had been biting back was full blown now, but Ginny ignored it, waving for Blaise to enter also. Loud cheers erupted from the children when they saw who had entered behind Ladbey, but Ginny found it hard to turn around and shut the door. Her head was spinning.

What did it mean that Draco wasn't here?

A cold blast of wind forced Ginny back inside her house. She shut the door and turned around, rubbing her hands together to try to dispel some of the chill in her fingers. Gray and Orion were speaking simultaneously to Blaise; Ginny wasn't sure how he was understanding anything they said. Yolly, Lyra, and Ladbey were standing to the side. Ladbey was rubbing his arms in an attempt to get warm as Yolly fixed Lyra's hair.

Ginny walked further into the foyer.

It was as Blaise threw his head back, laughing at the boys, that Ginny realized something else odd about the situation. This was the first time Ginny had spoken to, much less seen, Blaise since Christmas. He had spent the day with them, had fallen asleep on the couch, then was gone in the morning. Draco had told him everything that night—that's what Draco had said. But how much did Blaise really know?

Did Draco spill Luna's secret miscarriage to Blaise? Did he tell Blaise that the divorce papers had been for Luna and not for him—he must've. Ginny fidgeted, feeling increasingly awkward as she watched Blaise interact with the children. He hadn't written to her, not once, over the past five days. Blaise hadn't checked in on her. She hadn't written him either, but it was different with Draco living there, harder for her to reach out to him. Maybe Blaise felt the same way, though.

Or he was upset with her. About Luna. About how much she had hidden from him, when he had bent over backwards to help her with Draco.

"Blaise?" she called, stepping forward.

"Narcissa wanted to go out and buy some sweets from Diagon Alley for tonight," Blaise said, glancing over at her.

Ginny frowned, surprised at the random statement. The children were ecstatic at the news.

"Sweets? For us?" Orion asked, tugging on the sleeve of Blaise's jacket.

It was the one he wore Christmas morning—Bill's. He must've taken it with him when he left.

"It's possible. You know how your father is with sweets," Blaise replied.

"He loves his sweets, just like me!" Lyra cried out happily.

"Do you think he'll eat them all before we get there, Mummy? Mummy?"

Ginny blinked, pulled from her thoughts, and saw that the children and Blaise were looking at her expectantly. Eyebrows furrowing, Ginny tried to recall what Gray had asked her.

"I'm sure he'll share with you," Ginny said. "I'm assuming you'll beat him back to Nana's."

Her words were directed at Blaise and he noticed. His eyebrows lifted slightly before lowering again.

"He only had to run into work for a moment, was very upset he wasn't able to come get you three. I told him you prefer me to pick you up, though, and not to worry."

Orion, Lyra, and Gray burst out into laughter. Amusement poked at Ginny too, but it disappeared quickly. The day he had to pick up his children he got called into work? Convenient, that was, and a harsh reminder of what the past few years had been like. That is, if it was even the truth. Was it possible the past few days that she had thought she was ignoring Draco, he had been ignoring her also? Could he be sitting at Malfoy Manor with Narcissa, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the children, glad that he hadn't had to meet Ginny face to face?

She clenched her hands into fists as she fought the urge to question Blaise further. Then, relaxing her hands, Ginny bent down beside Gray. Now was not the time. Instead, she buttoned Gray's cloak and smoothed it out.

"Come on, give me a kiss. I'll see you all for dinner tomorrow."

Gray wrapped his arms around her neck, squeezing her so tightly she let out a choked laugh. Orion was next; he buried his face in her shirt as he hugged her before he abruptly let go and stepped back. Her eyes followed him before her attention was stolen by Lyra, who was clapping eagerly. Ginny grabbed her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as Lyra giggled.

Narcissa's house-elf grabbed the overnight bags for the children, heading towards the front door. Ginny rushed to her feet to open the door for Ladbey, who squeaked out a 'thank you'. Yolly helped usher the children out of the house—it had always been the plan for Yolly to use Side-Along Apparition to help get the children to Malfoy Manor. The children joyfully ran out into the yard.

Blaise stepped up beside her in the doorway, his arm brushing her own. Ginny glanced at him.

"How have you been?" she asked.

She cleared her throat when Blaise looked down at her.

"There's hardly time to chat, is there?" was all he said.

Blaise started to walk away, but Ginny reached out, grabbing onto his arm. She had moved without thought, surprised.

"Wait—"

Spinning to face her again, Blaise yanked his arm from her grasp. He lowered his head towards her.

"Let's not do this now," he warned.

"You're mad at me."

It was a statement, her shoulders sagging as she made it. He was mad at her. Of course he was. She should've known. Ginny should've realized Blaise's silence the last few days meant something. Blaise leaned away from her, lifting his chin into the air.

"You weren't hiding things only from Draco, were you? After everything—" Blaise cut himself off, eyes darting away from her.

"Can we talk about this? Please?" she begged. "I'll—I'll tell you everything, I promise."

"I have a delivery to make." Blaise inclined his head towards the children and house-elves in the yard. "Narcissa won't be pleased if she manages to beat me back to the manor."

"Blaise."

Hopelessness clung to his name as it fell from her lips. Bloody hell, she wasn't sure she could handle both Draco and Blaise purposely avoiding her. The last week had proved to her how much Blaise cared for her, how much he was willing to help her in a desperate situation. And she hadn't thought of him hardly at all the last five days, too consumed with her own worries. If he knew everything Ginny had done the last few years in connection with Luna, she couldn't be angry with him for wanting to not speak to her, but she needed a chance to explain.

Blaise stepped forward suddenly, his lips tugged into a frown as he looked her over. He sighed.

"I don't hate you. I am, however, incredibly… disappointed," he admitted. "This isn't the time or place to talk about it."

Ginny didn't speak as Blaise turned and walked down the stairs, towards the kids. She watched as he took Lyra's hand, pulling the little girl close before waving his wand and disappearing. Ladbey disappeared with a pop, the bags held tightly in his arms. Yolly took ahold of Gray and Orion, both of whom bounced in excitement, before vanishing also.

She stared at the now empty spot. Nothing was left of her family except footsteps in the snow. Ginny inhaled deeply, allowing the cold air to freeze her lungs, before spinning around and going inside. The warmth of her home hit her hard, and she slammed the front door shut behind her, leaning heavily on it.

Silence greeted her.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

It was hard to concentrate.

Once the children were gone, once the house was completely empty except for her and the cats, Ginny had done exactly what she promised Hermione she wouldn't do and got to working on her articles for the Daily Prophet. At first, it was nice, sitting behind her desk, going over her old notes and unedited pieces that had been neglected the past week. She was able to forget about her meeting with Blaise, about Draco's absence, about the house being far quieter than it had been in years.

But Ginny couldn't ignore reality for too long. Her worries were like an itch out of reach—bugging her, distracting her, a constant presence, and she could do nothing to make it stop.

Within an hour, she had given up on working. After writing a quick letter to her boss about potentially visiting him in the office, she had decided to bake a chocolate cake for when the children came home. But even that came to an end, the cake cooling on the counter. Ginny washed the dishes by hand, put everything away, before wiping down the counters. Then she decided to rearrange the contents of the shelves. For a moment, when it was all done, she felt immensely proud. It didn't last long.

Her boss wrote back informing her that until she finished her article on the Harpies, he had no desire to see her. She had tossed the letter into the fire in the library, groaning loudly. Then, frustrated, Ginny had curled up on the couch with a blanket. Witherwings laid beside her, his large eyes heavy as he watched her.

"Not used to this silence either, hmm?" Ginny asked, reaching over to rub his belly.

He stretched out beneath her fingers and she smiled slightly. It was rather early in the night still. After some debate, she had also written a letter to Malfoy Manor, to Draco, telling him he didn't need to plan on having the children wait for her to Floo, with the excuse that she was going out to dinner. Really, she still wasn't ready to see him, not after realizing he might not want to see her either.

Now, she had absolutely no obligations or time restraints. Perhaps she should go somewhere. She could meet up with someone, Neville or Maggie or her mum. Ginny grimaced at the thought of heading back to the Burrow.

After her dad had swung by the house on his lunch break, Ginny had agreed to take the kids to the Burrow for dinner that night. Molly had barely been able to hold back from questioning Ginny about Christmas Day. Reassuring her mum that her memory was back and fully intact had helped calm Molly. Telling her mum that Draco was late at work, and praying the children didn't mention anything, had made Ginny feel worse. She couldn't go back there, not again, not anytime soon. Especially since her mum had believed the lies she told.

Not the Burrow, then. Neville would be on holiday from Hogwarts at the moment. Maggie would interrogate Ginny about the past week, especially since they hadn't seen each other since the Bludger had smashed into Ginny's head. Who could she possibly spend time with?

She leaned her head back on the couch, frowning.

Merlin, a pint of beer sounded amazing right now.

Ginny straightened, an idea forming.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

"Bit early for a drink, isn't it, Gin?"

"It's the holidays. Leave her be. If she misses her brothers so desperately, we shouldn't make her feel bad for asking us to have a drink with her."

"Here, though? The Hog's Head Inn? I'm not sure I like the idea of you lot hanging around here."

"What? You think we can't protect ourselves?"

"Yeah, Charlie, what's that mean? Fair enough, it's not as though you'd understand, would you? This was our spot."

"What does that mean? Our spot?"

Ginny bit back a grin as she watched Charlie, George, and Ron go back and forth.

"Exactly as I said it," George said, lifting his nose in the air. "Ron, Gin, and me used to frequent this spot, back in the day."

"Back in what day?" Charlie asked, eyes narrowed. "When you were at Hogwarts? Sneaking down here for a quick pint? Mum would love that."

Ron rolled his eyes and took a swig of his beer. Then he put it down, leaning towards Charlie.

"Before we all got married and had children," Ron clarified. "Though I suppose you don't understand that we can't go out every night to a pub anymore, as you have no children of your own."

Surprised laughter escaped Charlie and he reached over, flicking Ron in the ear. Ron nearly spilled the beer in his glass trying to get away. Ginny snorted. If anyone else had said that, Charlie likely would've socked them in the face.

"So cruel, Ronniekins," George proclaimed. "Who taught you to be so disrespectful to your elders?"

"Likely you," Ginny said as Charlie's face flushed.

"Who are you calling an elder?" Charlie questioned the same time George yelled out, "I would never—"

"I wasn't being rude! Only telling him the truth," Ron interrupted. Then his gaze turned to Ginny. "I'm happy you sent us an owl but I can't lie and say I'm not a bit surprised. You haven't wanted to meet up for a drink in ages. Where's the kids?"

His question grabbed the attention of George and Charlie, who both looked to Ginny expectantly. Ginny shrugged, almost defiantly.

"With Draco. Where are your kids?" She paused, eyebrows lifting. "Or, better yet, where's Hermione? Does she know you're out drinking right now?"

Ron's cheeks reddened.

"Mum and Dad wanted them for the night. Hermione has a late meeting at the Ministry—not that it matters! She wouldn't care either way."

George scoffed loudly at that as Ginny grinned sharply. Though Ginny had been the one to invite her three brothers out, and had hoped desperately they'd all be willing to meet up so last minute, she couldn't help but poke fun at Ron. Ginny knew Hermione would be less than pleased if Ron came home sloshed. Everyone at the table knew that. Yet he still showed up.

Warmth spread through Ginny.

"I'm glad you all came. I really wanted to do this before Charlie leaves us again. It's been a while," Ginny said earnestly.

"Hear, hear!" George cried out, abruptly pushing back from his seat. "Such an occasion calls for some Firewhisky, doesn't it?"

Ginny grimaced but Charlie was nodding and Ron didn't seem to mind, as though knowing his fate tonight was entwined with the horrible liquor.

"I can't believe I have to find out everything about you from my wife," Ron said as George wandered over to Aberforth at the bar.

Ginny froze, eyes widening as she looked at him.

"You got your memory back and couldn't even send an owl," Ron continued, blind to her reaction. "Not to me, the one who had been by your bedside at St. Mungo's when you woke up. Hermione wasn't there. I was. But she's the one you told. You simply left your favorite brother in the dark about it, worrying over you."

Relieved laughter left her. For a moment, Ginny had been sure Hermione had told Ron about Draco not living at home anymore. Ginny glanced at Charlie, who was watching the interaction with interest, and her laughter died. She was thankful, more than ever, that Charlie always kept her secrets best. If any other brother had been at the Burrow Christmas Day when she arrived with Draco, the past few days would have been very different.

"I should've written you when I got my memory back," Ginny said, trying to insert as much sincerity into her voice as possible. "I'm sorry. It's been a bit chaotic."

That was an understatement.

"I was only teasing," Ron replied, shrugging. "I'm happy you've remembered everything. Are you back to work yet?"

"No. I need to go back to see the Harpies and interview them."

"When will you be doing that?" Charlie asked, reclining back in his seat.

The chair made an ominous creaking sound that made Charlie lean forward quickly. Ron laughed.

"This place is a real shit hole, you know that, don't you?" Charlie said before Ginny could respond. "I mean that. Romania has some real dodgy pubs, but this one makes them all look like nice teashops I could take Dad and Mum."

"No one comes here for the grandeur of the place."

George cut into the conversation as he arrived back. He waved his wand and eight shot glasses landed gently on the table. With another wave of his wand, the glasses divided themselves four ways, sweeping across the table to sit in front of each person. Ginny watched as one glass almost spilled, getting caught in a hole on the tabletop that looked like it had been created by someone taking a knife to the wood.

"Then why come here?"

"To not be bothered," Ginny replied.

Charlie frowned. After the war, this had been one of the few places Ron, Ginny, and George could go to drink without being harassed. No one came here to praise them for their part in the war. They were able to enjoy themselves without worry over being overheard by reporters. Even if the glasses sometimes were a tad dusty and the beer sometimes tasted like it had gone flat, Hog's Head Inn held a special place in their hearts.

"Shall we take the shot?" Ron asked, grabbing a glass and holding it up.

Ginny grinned and nodded, lifting her shot glass to tap his. When George and Charlie followed suit, they all hesitated only a moment before drinking. As expected, the liquid burned the whole way down. The scorching of her throat was harsh, but the warmth that drifted through her veins as the liquor settled in her belly was very welcome.

"Merlin's balls, that shit tastes disgusting. How long has that bottle been sitting here? Thirty years?" Charlie asked, coughing.

"It's aged like fine wine, I think," George said, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. "You're so unsophisticated, Charles."

"Firewhisky is not like fine wine and doesn't age like it, you prat—"

Charlie, Ron, and George immediately began their back and forth once again. Ginny smiled and watched them. It felt good to sit with them and listen to them bicker—it felt like home. She reached for the second shot of Firewhisky and held it up. Her brothers all stopped speaking when they saw, and various, familiar grins curled on their lips.

The second shot didn't burn nearly as bad as the first.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

For whatever reason, they didn't think to use magic to return all their empty glasses from their table back to the bar. Aberforth grunted his thanks from his stool behind the bar as he cleaned a dusty glass with a dirty rag. Ginny's nose scrunched up at the sight of it—Merlin, if this place wasn't so secluded she'd never drink here. She placed a handful of pint glasses on the bar then wrapped her scarf around her neck, ready for the brutal cold outside.

George and Charlie were almost to the door, laughing loudly to each other. They had decided to swing by Weasley's Wizard Wheezes now that they were all done drinking, as Charlie hadn't seen the shop at this location in a few years. Ron and Ginny had both been invited but it was nearing nine now and the amount of beer sitting in their empty bellies promised to be trouble if they didn't head home and get food soon.

The two youngest siblings fell into step as they headed outside, watching their older brothers stumble down the road. Charlie took a second to yell goodbye once more before disappearing into the darkness. Ginny leaned against the wall of the Hog's Head Inn and buttoned her jacket up the rest of the way. Ron waited beside her, his arm pressed against her own.

"Think we should've gotten them something to eat before we let them set off?" he asked, amusement coloring his words.

"Something to eat from here? Only if we wanted to make them ill. I don't think we've ever eaten here before."

"We did, with Harry and Hermione. And, actually, Harry did get sick. You told me he threw up all night."

Ginny's forehead puckered as she thought back. That must've been years ago—ah, yeah, it was. Right after Harry's birthday, when her relationship with Harry was still happy and they were still very much in love. They had decided to swing by the Hog's Head Inn to see Aberforth and Hagrid. Harry had risked trying one of Aberforth's soups, and it hadn't settled very well in his stomach.

A cheeky smile brightened her face as she recalled the night.

"Could've been the booze and not the food, though. He could barely stand that night, remember?"

"Yeah," Ron laughed. "I remember. That was all your fault."

"My fault?"

"Yeah, your fault! You told him you could drink him under the table—"

"Which I did!"

"—and he was determined to beat you. Said you couldn't be a better Quidditch player than him and a better drinker."

"How do you remember all that?" Ginny questioned, pleased as she stared up at Ron.

He knocked elbows with her.

"Not all of us have issues with our memory, Gin."

Her glare lacked any heat as she reached over and shoved him. Ron stumbled several steps away but was laughing. Ginny couldn't help smiling back at him.

"You're a git."

"A git with an excellent memory, thank you very much."

Ron walked back up to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and hugging her close. She leaned into it, her eyes shutting for a brief second as the familiarity of Ron washed over her. The night had been perfect, in a way. The pub hadn't been too packed, it never really was, but there was enough chatter among the patrons that the table of Weasleys loudly conversing didn't seem too obnoxious. Aberforth had been generous with his pours and the warmth from the fireplace had kept the siblings happy and cozy.

For a while, Ginny was able to forget.

Now, though, as the frosty air nipped at her face, reality was creeping back in. Ron would be heading home to his family and Ginny would be heading home to an empty house.

"Draco's moved out."

The words came out muffled, for Ginny had buried her face in her scarf. Ron tensed, though. She could feel him peering down at her.

"What's that?"

Ginny sighed and looked up, meeting Ron's confused gaze. It was sometime around the third pint of beer that Ginny had decided she wanted to tell Ron about what was going on, if he didn't already know. There was always a chance Hermione had mentioned it to him. But she had remembered how nice it had felt talking to Hermione about it. She wanted to talk to someone else about it. She needed to.

"I had you guys all meet up with me tonight because Draco's moved out. He took the kids for the night and I couldn't stand being alone at the house."

Ron's expression would've been comical if Ginny's mood hadn't turned so dismal. She stepped away from him and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Are you joking with me right now?" Ron asked, eyebrows furrowed. "Rotten joke, if you are."

"I'm not joking."

Running a hand through his scruffy beard, Ron eyed her. A group of hags shuffled by Ron and Ginny, making the siblings step apart. When the door shut behind the hags, Ron stepped closer to her.

"This happened because of the accident?"

"We had issues beforehand but didn't deal with them. I just—I wanted to tell you. I haven't really been able to get a good, I don't know, grasp on the situation, and I've only talked to Hermione about it. No one else knows, really."

"Not even Mum? Didn't you say you were just there for dinner?"

"Yeah. She was happy my memory was back and thought Draco was working."

"She probably knew something was up," Ron said, nodding to himself. "Mums always know when something is wrong."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Ginny asked, frowning.

"No. Just letting you know that Mum's going to find out soon enough if she doesn't already think something is up. Just how she is. How long ago did he leave?"

Ginny leaned back against the wall. Closing her eyes and rubbing them, Ginny basked in the darkness provided to her. She must've been silent for too long, for Ron began speaking again, his voice a touch gentler.

"Look, Gin, I'm happy you told me. You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to. I won't make you. You've only got to promise you'll let me know if I need to go over there and break one of his legs."

His offer brought a tired smile to her face, and Ginny opened her eyes. Ron was standing in front of her, his gaze serious and concerned.

"I'm fine." She waved her hand at him as though that would make his worry disappear. "No need to go beat him up. I've got this under control."

"You said you don't have a grasp on the situation," Ron said. "How is that having it under control?"

Ah. Point taken. Sometimes she wished Ron wasn't as observant as he was. People always called Ron insensitive and sometimes he could be. But a lot of times he was kind and thoughtful and he tried to fix things, if he could.

"It's been hard, trying to figure out how I feel about everything: him, us, what the right path is," Ginny admitted.

"Eh, I can imagine. You've always been… well, different."

She frowned, tilting her head.

"Different?"

Ron nodded, as if what he said was common knowledge.

"Go on," Ginny urged, reaching out to prod him in the arm. "What makes me so different?"

He scowled at her but it held no real anger.

"You're a fighter. Always have been, always will. You never ask for help. You like doing things on your own, if only to prove to everyone that you can. You've never needed anyone."

"That's not true!"

"Yeah, it is," Ron laughed. "It's not a bad thing! Bloody hell, Gin, you've had dozen more friends than I ever had, or George and Fred or Percy or—"

"Get on with it."

"You've always had plenty of friends but hardly ever ask anyone for help. That's all. It's simply who you are."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm only saying that I can imagine you're having a spot of trouble figuring out your feelings since you've never needed Malfoy. You've wanted him, yeah, but you've never needed anyone, much less that prat. I would've thought you mad if you ever told me you needed Malfoy. That was part of accepting your relationship with him, I think, realizing you wanted him to be in your life, not that you needed him in it."

She inhaled through her nose sharply as she realized her eyes were growing wet. If she had asked for help with her marriage, asked for advice or been more open with her loved ones about it, there was a chance she wouldn't be in this situation now.

"What should I do?" Ginny asked, her voice hitching. "I do need help, I need help figuring this all out. I've made such a mess of things, Ron, I really have. I keep blaming him for everything but it's not only him, it's me too."

Ron reached out, wiping away the tears that fell from her eyes with his cold hand. He offered her a sad smile.

"I don't know anything about the situation. And I'm a bit biased, aren't I? I hated the git for years and now he's family. Sure, sometimes I want to punch him in the face but that doesn't mean I think you shouldn't keep working on your marriage. It's really up to you and what you want."

She nodded, taking several shaky breaths to calm herself.

"I wish I could be more help. If you want to come back to the house, talk about it more, I don't mind. Maybe then I can offer you some more advice or something?"

"No, no," Ginny said, wiping at her runny nose. "I should go home and rest."

The muffled sounds of the patrons inside the Hog's Head Inn filled the air as they fell silent. Then Ron cocked his head, grinning.

"Well, then, I guess it's time I go home and find out all the details from Hermione—Hey!" Ron started laughing when Ginny punched him in the arm. A hesitant smile broke out across her lips. "I was only joking! Bloody hell, Gin, who taught you how to punch?"

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

December 31st

Draco.

Her eyes fluttered open and she breathed in slowly. Just like every other morning, far earlier than she preferred, the first thing that Ginny thought of was him. Turning her head, she looked over at the empty spot beside her. She had hoped with a few beers in her, then a couple pieces of the chocolate cake she had baked in her stomach, she'd sleep to a reasonable hour. She was wrong.

Instead, there was a horrible ache in her chest. Ginny couldn't remember what she had been dreaming about, but she had a good idea that it had been about Draco. She lifted her hand, pressing it to her breast, and willed the pain to go away. Though it felt very real, Ginny knew it wasn't. In these early hours, alone in her home with no one to judge, she allowed herself to bask in the horrible feeling of missing Draco.

She reached out and grabbed his pillow. Bringing it up to her nose, she inhaled, but his familiar scent was barely there anymore. It had simply been too long since the last time he had slept in their bed. Irrationally, the realization made her angry, and she chucked the pillow away from her. It hit the wall and fell to the ground.

"Damn it," Ginny groaned, sitting up and putting her head in her hands.

It was easy being angry at Draco, easy blaming him for the mess they were in, easy to say he had made the decision to go to Blaise's. Allowing herself to be confused, to be filled with rage, to drown in her tangled feelings—it was all simple and comfortable, to an extent. But it couldn't last forever. Ron was right. She needed to figure out what she wanted.

Ginny lifted her head from her hands, grabbing her wand and waving it distractedly at the candle on her bureau. A flame sparked to life, brightening the dark bedroom, and she slid out of bed. Determinedly, and ignoring all pride and reason, Ginny walked over to the closet and pulled open the doors. Most of the clothes hanging were her own: expensive dress robes that she hardly touched unless for a Ministry event, old Harpies jerseys that she'd look at to reminisce about years long past, dresses for nice dinners out. There were a few starched button ups and robes that Draco never cared for that still hung beside her clothes. Her fingers ghosted over them.

She had almost turned to leave when she spied a chest sitting off to the side of the closet. It was Draco's; she had forgotten it was hidden away there, as neither of them ever really opened it. With a few strong tugs, Ginny pulled it from the closet. A small smile curled on her lips as she knelt beside it, opening the lid and staring in. Several large, bright yellow jumpers were folded neatly inside. Ginny pulled out the sweaters and put them on the floor. Only Draco would have clothing he never wore so carefully stacked inside a chest he never opened.

Gently, she unfolded each jumper from top to bottom, admiring the different style each 'D' was knitted in. Her mum liked to switch it up every once in a while. It was obvious that Draco had told Molly she needn't knit him a jumper every year, for he only had five in the pile. Each jumper was soft to the touch, never worn.

Ginny's eyes widened when she got to the last one. The sweater was still bound in the hideous wrapping paper her mum had wrapped it in. She could remember the paper well, because she had cringed when Molly had handed it to Draco. George and Ron had been snickering in the background as Draco barely held back a sneer while looking it over. But he had opened it painstakingly slow, delicately as to not rip the paper. It had been his first gift from her mum—his first Weasley jumper.

Ginny sniffed, feeling rather like she was about to cry as she gently removed the wrapping paper. And, ah, she was right. Revealed beneath the paper was Draco's first Weasley jumper, old and oddly tattered, a horrible shade of mustard yellow that Molly had used before opting to go with a bright yellow yarn the following years. Her eyes watered, and she sniffed again; Draco had kept it wrapped up and hidden away, but he had saved it for all these years along with all the other ones her mum had given him. Lifting it to her nose, she closed her eyes and inhaled.

She smiled. It smelt like the Burrow and, funny enough, like Draco. Had he worn it often when she wasn't around? He must've. Ginny studied it for what felt like ages. It was mad, she knew, to put on her husband's jumper in an attempt to feel closer to him—her husband that was no longer living at home. Ginny knew it was insane. Yet… yet, she reasoned, it was something of his that could bring her comfort, at least for the moment.

There was no way he'd even realize she wore it, not unless she told him. She'd wrap it back up in the hideous wrapping paper and put it back at the bottom of the chest and shove the chest back into the proper spot in the closet… and he'd be none the wiser. Before she could convince herself not to, Ginny shrugged on the jumper and stood up. It fell midway down her thigh and she had to roll the ends of the sleeves up so she could use her hands. She had to look ridiculous. Leaving the chest in the middle of the floor, Ginny walked over and grabbed the pillow she had thrown off the bed. Then she walked by the bureau, blowing out the candle.

No one had to know she decided to sleep on Draco's side of the bed—it was only for a couple hours, a silly attempt to get some extra rest while she still could. No one had to know she buried her face in his pillow—pretending it was him she was falling asleep on. No one had to know she was wearing his jumper—or the fact that his familiar scent of mint helped her fall asleep far easier than anything else had in the last few days.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

The house was freezing, Ginny decided when she woke up. She'd change out of Draco's jumper before he came by to drop off the kids for dinner but, at the moment, it was the warmest thing she could be wearing. Tugging on some socks, she rolled them up over her pant legs and headed out of the bedroom. She made a small breakfast for herself and ate it sitting on the kitchen counter before cleaning the mess she created. Then, Ginny went to her den, grabbed all her incomplete work, and set up on a table in the library. Cross legged on the floor, she labored over it—editing and rewriting and looking over notes—until she came to the conclusion that she could do no more until she finished her interview with the Holyhead Harpies' players.

Yolly came by before lunch, but Ginny sent her on her way. It wasn't an hour later that Ginny finally wrote to Maggie about setting up another interview with the players. Her stomach had been twisted in knots and she had felt rather nauseous over it—she'd be flying in the same pitch, on the same broom, with the same girls, trying to take the same notes as when she had been hit by the Bludger and plummeted to the ground. It could be days, though, maybe even weeks before Maggie had an opening for her. Ginny would have to worry about all that then. Perhaps by then Ginny wouldn't even be bothered over the idea of it.

She ate another two pieces of cake as she looked over the Daily Prophet, scowling when she saw an article comparing Headmistress McGonagall's reign at Hogwarts to Headmaster Dumbledore's. Apparently, now the Daily Prophet preferred the late headmaster and had some tips for McGonagall on how to run a school. The nerve.

Then, far too bored, Ginny located Witherwings, Marion Marie Margaret, and Gray's cat, Hex, separately and brushed them. Marion Marie's fur was the knottiest by far, after spending some time outside. Hex had given her a good swipe with his claws, angry at being disturbed in Gray's room, before allowing her to finish. Witherwings followed her around after in thanks, nearly tripping her as she ascended the stairs towards the bedrooms.

"Hell, Witherwings, you're going to make me fall and break my neck," Ginny grumbled, sucking on the spot on her hand that Hex had scratched. "Who will find me then, hm? The children when they show up with Draco in an hour? Will I even make it till then—hey! Bloody cat!"

Witherwings had abruptly changed directions, slipping between Ginny's feet to race down the stairs. She turned on the steps, glaring, as she saw him slow in front of Draco's study. Brushing up against the doors, Witherwings let out a loud meow.

"You haven't been sneaking in there while Draco's been gone, have you?" she asked, eyes narrowing. "Come up with me. Leave his study alone."

Witherwings didn't listen. Ginny blew out a breath, rolling her eyes. Draco never minded the cats following him into the study when he was working, though they rarely did so. The idea of Witherwings somehow sneaking in now, though, with no one to keep an eye on him did not sit well with Ginny. She descended the stairs back towards Witherwings. He meowed again when she approached and squatted down to grab him.

Ginny stood up straight, looking over the large doors as Witherwings settled in her arms. Draco's study had sat untouched for days. Hesitating for only a second, she lifted her hand and pressed it against the door. Unsurprisingly, it opened at her touch. Ginny stared into the room from the doorway. It looked cold, empty, uninhabited. Or maybe it had looked like this many times over the years but she hadn't bothered to check in on it. It was tempting to step in, to look over the room without anyone else in the house. And she almost did, letting her curiosity get the best of her, when the front door opened and a burst of cold air swept through the foyer.

Ginny squeaked in surprise, whipping around. Witherwings jumped out of Ginny's arms, darting up the stairs and out of sight, as shocked as she was by the sudden disturbance.

"—don't be ridiculous, boys. You've been outside all day."

Draco.

He ushered the children into the foyer as Gray and Orion let out cries of disappointment. Ginny wasn't sure what Draco had denied them, far too stunned to see him back in their home. His face was flushed from the winter air, hair windswept, lips tilted upwards in a slight smirk. She lifted her hands to her chest, nervousness sweeping over her. He had yet to notice her, too distracted by the children.

And, holy fuck, she was still wearing his jumper. Ginny looked down at herself, at the mustardy yellow sweater with the large 'D' sewn onto the front, and reacted without thinking. She raced towards the stairs, hoping to move as fast as Witherwings had. Her foot had only reached the third stair when Draco's voice rang out.

"Ginny?"

She stilled.

Damn it.

Turning on the spot, folding her arms over her chest in an attempt to cover up the single, obnoxious letter on the front of the jumper, Ginny met Draco's eyes. His lips were parted in surprise, eyebrows furrowed, as he looked her over. She hadn't even had a chance to shower. Barely fighting a groan, she tried to smile at him as she began down the stairs towards her family.

"Draco," she greeted before turning her attention to the kids. "Hey! How was it last night?"

Immediately, the children began speaking at once. Ginny caught a snippet of Gray describing a very big kid book that Nana had read him, saw Orion demonstrating how large of a snowball he had made with Draco, and heard some of the list of sweets Nana had fed Lyra. Draco shut the door behind him and began motioning the kids out of the foyer, stopping their rambling conversations.

"Put your things away upstairs," he told them. "Go on, I'm not leaving yet."

They rushed by Ginny, heading up the stairs behind her. Ladbey, who had snuck in behind Draco, followed them, carrying their overnight bags.

She followed their trek with her eyes, hugging her arms around herself tighter. When it became obvious that she was avoiding Draco's gaze—honestly, how old was she—Ginny looked over at him. His expression was more composed than when he had initially spotted her. An eyebrow twitched upwards on his forehead when their gazes locked.

Ginny hesitated, unsure if she had to address the fact that she was wearing his jumper. Ugh, she probably should. Draco spoke before she could open her mouth.

"I figured it best to get the children to begin unpacking now, as it could take them all night to empty out their bags."

She blinked.

"What are you talking about?"

"You packed enough clothing to last them two, maybe three, weeks. They were only staying the night. I thought we had discussed this?"

Ginny opened her mouth before closing it again. Sure, sometimes she overpacked the children's bags but only in case something happened. It wasn't like the Burrow or Malfoy Manor had tons of children's clothes laying around—or, well, maybe they did, but that didn't mean Ginny should rely on that.

"I knew you were dropping them off today," she said instead. "That's what we agreed on."

"Yes, I assumed you remembered that." Draco lifted his hand, running his hand along his jaw as he eyed her. "Rather brave of you to decide to sneak into my study so close to my arrival time then."

Her face flushed as she realized what he was implying. Whipping her head towards the study, she saw the door was still pushed open. This time, she did groan out loud, lifting her hands to cover her face as panic swept over her.

"I swear, I wasn't sneaking in there," she said, dropping her hands. "It was Witherwings."

"The cat?"

"He was messing with the door and I tried stopping him. I wasn't snooping."

"I see."

"Draco, I swear it," she told him earnestly.

The corner of his lip lifted when she said his name. She only noticed because she had been staring so intently at his face. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of it.

"You're messing with me," Ginny said slowly.

His smirk grew larger and he lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

"It'd be idiotic of me to assume neither you nor the children would venture in there while I was gone."

Surprised laughter left her at his words before she pursed her lips.

"Very funny. You're early, you realize? I had some plans to set some well thought out traps in there. Next time, give me some warning."

"Is that why my chair broke a couple years back? Was it you?"

Ginny smiled at the memory. Draco's shout had echoed throughout the house and Ginny had run from the library, Lyra on her hip, to find Draco as angry as a wet cat, sprawled across the study floor. His broken chair had been beneath him.

"I wish I had thought of that before," she replied. "Now you'll be on the lookout."

"Indeed."

It felt like her heart skipped a beat as they fell into silence, eyes on each other. This was the first time they had seen each other in days, the first time they had spoken since he packed his things and left. The realization made her drop her gaze, staring down at her socked feet. Ever since she had woken up this morning, she had missed Draco so much it had felt like a pain in her chest. Now that he was here, standing right before her, breathing the same air as her, she wasn't sure of her feelings.

"I apologize for not coming yesterday to pick up the children. Work needed me in the early morning. It ran later than expected."

She looked up when he spoke.

"It was nice to see Blaise."

"Yes, I'm sure he was glad to see you too."

Ginny tilted her head, unsure if he was being sarcastic or not. Then, his demeanor changed, ever so slightly. She waited; it was obvious he wanted to say something to her. Her stomach tightened.

"I've been trying to give you time. I don't want you to think…" He ran a hand through his hair, lips drawn tight. "It's not disinterest, I hope you know that. Time and space, I…"

Draco trailed off, shaking his head. She bit the inside of her lip and took a hesitant step towards him. He had seemed so perfectly composed, almost overly so, only a moment ago, but now something was breaking through his mask. Ginny wasn't sure what it was.

"Draco?"

"I would've written you by now, if I thought you wanted me to," he told her, sharp eyes meeting her own.

Vulnerability—that's what was breaking through his mask. Soft, fearful, worried vulnerability.

Goosebumps rose on her arms as a warm flush crawled up her neck, coloring her face pink. The desire to reach out and grab him, to wrap her hand around his wrist and tug him closer, was overwhelming.

"Dad! Are you staying for dinner? Gray said he's starving! Are we eating soon?"

Ginny turned around, surprised that she had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't heard Lyra and Orion running down the stairs behind her. When she looked back at Draco, he was shaking his head.

"Not tonight, I'm afraid," Draco said. "I should be leaving now as is."

Orion threw his arms around Draco when he reached him. Lyra followed suit, before motioning to be picked up.

"I can't stay," he said softly, running his hand through Lyra's wild locks. "Will you be staying up till midnight for the new year?"

"Yes!" Lyra cried out excitedly, tugging on Draco's robes as Orion nodded.

Draco glanced at Ginny, who shrugged. The children never made it to midnight, all falling asleep on the couch around her. When they were a little older, she wouldn't mind taking them to George and Angelina's, who always did great fireworks at midnight. For now, though, staying at home with them was something Ginny rather enjoyed.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow night, through Floo. I want you to tell me all about your midnight celebrations. Where's Gray?"

"In his room. Nana let him borrow a book on dragons," Orion explained to Ginny. "He likes it a lot."

"Read it three times already! Three times!" Lyra said, eyes wide.

"Well, he's said he's read it three times," Orion continued. "But it's a big book. I don't know how he'd be able to do that."

"Go grab him for me, will you, Orion?" Draco asked.

Orion nodded before running up the stairs. Ginny frowned at the sight of it, always worried one of the children will slip and fall, but Orion managed just fine. She looked at Draco and Lyra. Lyra was leaning heavily against Draco's leg, eyeing the golden bubbles that still lingered by the ceiling.

"You look…"

Ginny's eyebrows lifted, her attention drawn back to Draco as he trailed off. She glanced down at herself. Again, her face reddened. During their conversation, she had somehow forgotten she was wearing his jumper.

"I'm sorry," she told him, meeting his eyes. "I had—I just was—I had meant to change before you got here. You were early and I hadn't been thinking."

"I was early. I don't mind it—you wearing it, that is. You look—"

"Nice," Lyra supplied the word, focusing on Ginny.

Ginny smiled at her daughter.

"You look nice," he agreed, and she looked back to her husband.

He swallowed before giving her a nod, and her smile fell. It was clear to her now that he was as unsure of how to act as she was. Collected, cool, but still hesitant. Her mouth went dry at the realization. Draco was nervous too. Ginny wasn't the only one uncertain on how to deal with this. She could've laughed at herself. Of course he was unsure. They had left their relationship hanging in the air.

"We can go as slow or as fast as we want, we can figure it out together, we can figure it out as a team."

She had forgotten that he had said that to her when he proposed the idea of moving in with Blaise. The last week they had hardly been a team. Ginny had been trying to figure out what she thought, where she stood, and she had left Draco with his own insecurities. Licking her lips, Ginny studied Draco.

Her heartbeat sped up.

Merlin, as horrible and confusing and crazy as the last few days had been, as angry and sad as she had been, it was good to see him.

"I'll write you."

Draco's eyebrows lifted in surprise when she spoke.

"I will," she promised.

He nodded slowly, hands flexing at his side.

"Here he is!" Orion announced from behind her.

Ginny didn't look to the children as they ran down the stairs. It wasn't until Gray ran up to Draco, hugging his legs, that Draco broke eye contact with her. He bent down so he was eye level with the children. She wasn't sure what he was saying to them, distracted by what she had promised. And then Draco was leaving, heading to the front door, Ladbey in tow. Ginny lifted her hand and waved, and their eyes met once more.

The door shut behind him and Ginny let out a slow breath.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Author's Note: Well. That took a lifetime for me to write and get out to you and I'm sorry about that. Anytime I take part in fic exchanges, my other stories tend to suffer—but I really do love exchanges so much and hope you can forgive me. If interested or bored, please check out Nothing Better and Bargaining Chip, my two stories I wrote over the summer.

As always, thank you idreamofdraco for helping me out with this chapter. No matter how long I take to write, she always gets the chapter back to me quickly and I absolutely adore her.

I did get a review comparing this story to What Alice Forgot and just want to reiterate that I had read that book before writing this story- and it one hundred percent inspired What Ginny Forgot. There isn't much that's similar but, yes, that book definitely inspired this story!

Again, sorry for the wait! Please tell me what you think of the chapter! Also, thank you to everyone for reviewing the last chapter and sending me some love- anons included! I can't send my anons any messages thanking them for reviewing and I do try to reach out at the end of each chapter but please know I do appreciate it so much! And do not fear—next chapter will have a lot more interactions with Draco! Thanks!