Chapter VIIII

Take a Chance

Hermione's eyes lit up. "We could take her to the booth and have her rest up as the band plays!" she suggested, grimacing as Ginny dry heaved.

"And have the Minister and his wife see her in this state?" Seamus asked aghast. "She'll surely retch right on the table!"

"Come on," stated Hermione firmly, taking Seamus' spot and holding Ginny up. "There's nothing else we can do. She really needs to sleep it off."

They shuffled over to the V.I.P section once more, Ginny struggling to break free of their grasps. She snickered mercilessly when she spied Neville and Luna at the booth. "My friends!" she announced to the entire room.

"Oh, my God," whispered Luna, hand to her mouth. She prepared the booth quickly, already aware of the unanticipated situation. "Neville, pass me your suit jacket," she commanded, moving aside all their belongings to make room. Neville handed her the clothing and she folded it into a pillow at the edge of the sofa.

Just as they entered the vicinity, Luna helped Hermione and Ron gently place Ginny on the plush couch. Ginny fell asleep almost immediately.

Neville looked to Seamus. "What the bloody fuck?"

"I found her like that!" Seamus repeated, red in the face. "You think I shoved those drinks down her throat?!"

"For Christ's sake, she's fucking snoring!" hissed Neville, watching Ginny toss and turn.

"I wish I could provide some sort of potion, but we're strict here when it comes to Wizard and Muggle boundaries," Pansy stated, standing up from her side of the booth and sitting beside Ron. "She'll just have to sleep for now."

Ron tensely shifted away from her.

Pansy acknowledged the action, but she ignored it. "We have a room upstairs where she could stay for now. After a few hours, she should be just fine," she recommended, taking off her shrug and draping it over Ginny. She turned to her husband. "Draco, darling, do you mind taking her?"

Something in his eyes said he didn't wish to do such a deed, but he stood up anyway.

Ron interjected. "I could take her," he declared, getting up as well. He blocked Malfoy's view of his slumbering sister. "The Minister needn't worry himself."

Hermione touched a gentle hand to Ron. "Let them help," she said softly.

Sighing in exhaustion, Ron nodded and lifted his sister into his arms. Neville and Seamus made a move to help, but Malfoy had already begun leading Ron into a backroom with a spiral staircase. He stopped suddenly.

"My sister may be thin, Malfoy, but I can't hold her forever," Ron snarled.

"I know my wife informed you of some boundaries bollocks, but you can Apparate in here without any problems," he stated, still as formal as ever.

Ron strained to speak, but he managed to say, "I left my wand back at the booth."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and let out his arms. "Give her here. I'll Apparate her back to the Burrow."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, right," he choked, leaning against a wall.

"Fine. You can stand there and hold your heavy sister until I slowly retrieve your wand for you." He smirked.

Ron let out a raspy puff of breath and handed his sister over. Malfoy and Ginny both disappeared instantly. Breathing deeply, Ron stood still and promptly regretted his decision.

Ginny awoke to the faint sounds of fire crackling. Her tight dress constricted her torso, causing her to breathe erratically. She rolled over with a groan and somehow maneuvered her way onto her stomach. It was hot and foggy and she strained to breathe. She unbuttoned the back of her dress and sighed when she began to inhale freely. Propping herself up, she groggily opened her eyes. She spotted the silk black sheets underneath her and she felt herself being pulled into the past.

The silk sheets. The warmth of the fire. Her lover lazily sitting by the window as she slept soundly.

It was the surreptitious trysts in Hogwarts all over again.

Ginny blinked and quickly sat up, her mind swirling with with memories of their kisses, their cuddles, and their heavy gropes. She was back in his private room again – she was back in the hidden alcoves of the corridors – she was back to sneaking into the broom shed after hours.

It seemed so safe.

"Ginevra?"

She shrieked and spun around on the duvet. Her eyes scanned the man before her and she sighed deeply. He looked the same: platinum streaks of neat hair, calculating silver eyes, and that same gentle, mocking sneer.

The room was an exact replica of his Head Boy room at Hogwarts. The drapes were the same dark velvet and the furniture was expensive and antique.

Had she been taken back in time? Was her life going to start over? Did she have the chance to begin again?

Her mouth opened. "Did I dream it?" Her voice was a raspy whisper, but the effect it had on him was extreme.

His eyes grew sad and he shook his head slowly.

Ginny's shoulders dropped and her heart felt heavy. She fell back onto the bed and squeezed her eyes shut. Percy was still dead. Draco was a happily married Minister. And she was still the same selfish Ginny.

Without hesitation, she fell into another slumber.

She woke up many hours later.

Ginny berated herself aloud for drinking. Her head was pounding terribly and she smelled the excessive amount of alcohol all over her clothes and breath. She could not recall precisely what had happened, but from the state of her body, it had to have been a lot.

It took her ten whole minutes to stand up, and when she finally did, she slipped out of her designer dress and yawned. She needed a shower. And very strong hangover potion.

She turned and yelped.

Draco Malfoy was standing in the room – lips curled in an amused smirk. His eyes were swimming with emotions, but Ginny never knew what they were. And she was sure she never wanted to know.

Blushing furiously, she managed to hiss, "What are you doing here?"

His smirk widened. "It is my manor."

She felt like she had been struck by lightning. She glanced around the room and swallowed nervously. This wasn't the Burrow. And this was most definitely not her bedroom. Ginny paled visibly. "I guess …" she started, bending down to pick up her dress. She wrapped it around her like a blanket and refused to meet his eyes. "What the fuck happened?" she blurted out. She shivered in her underwear and tried not to blush like an ashamed harlot.

"You were sloshed," he explained, swiftly untying his robe and throwing it over his desk chair. "I took you here in fear that your mother might castrate me for bringing her daughter home unconscious." His words were light and friendly, but Ginny only felt gauche and mortified.

"I need to go," she said suddenly, frantically searching the room for her pocketbook. She fished through the silken sheets of the bed.

"Your belongings are not with you," he said from his desk.

She faced him and found him scribbling on a piece of paper.

"They are most likely with your brother."

His cool voice aggravated her. "You had no right to bring me here," she said icily. "Either you inform me of a way to get home or I'll wander this manor trying to figure out how."

"It is late and you are aggravated. I suggest you sleep it off until morning. I will return you to your brother then," he informed her formally, whistling. Just then, a gorgeous hawk flew through the window and perched itself on his desk. Draco attached the now rolled up parchment to its leg and sent him off.

Ginny stared dumbly. "You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to stay here," she blustered nervously. What time was it? Had she honestly slept that long?

"Then I must be out of my mind," he retorted coolly, turning to face her. He looked her up and down and his eyes darkened instantly. "You should probably put your dress on. My restraint only goes so far."

She tightened the garment around her. "I need to leave," she stressed slowly, hoping the enunciation of each word would emphasize the gravity of the situation. "There are arrangements," she paused, thinking of her family, "That must be made."

"I just notified your brother of your condition. I'm sure your family will understand." He stood up and dusted off his black slacks. Without taking another look at her, he headed for the door, but said before leaving, "I will wake you in the morning."

"Draco."

It was the first time she uttered his name.

He stiffened at the door and waited with bated breath.

"What of your wife?" she asked softly, but her tone suggested otherwise. There was no sweetness in her words, but malice – pure, unadulterated malice.

"Visiting a friend," he answered neutrally, without turning around.

"Are you happy?" Ginny croaked, tears forming in her doe eyes. She gripped the slip until her knuckles went white.

He spun around and stared blankly. "Yes."

She nodded, the reply piercing achingly at her heart. She had heard from everyone that this was the life he had wanted, but to hear it from him was the assurance she needed. "I'm glad," she whispered truthfully.

She opened her mouth to offer a very late congratulation on their nuptials, but was cut off deftly when Draco stalked towards her. She inhaled sharply when she felt his breath on her face. Oh, God, she thought, quavering at their close proximity.

"I remember everything," he admitted quietly, trailing a finger down her red cheek. "I remember the way your body reacted to my touches. I remember passing you secret notes in the corridors." His face was void of expression, but the sheer pain in his voice wrapped around her like a suffocating vine. "I remember that ridiculous dress you wore to the ball. I will never forgive Finnigan for dancing with you that night." His hand landed on her chin and he caressed her bottom lip with his thumb. He coaxed her mouth open and he leaned down. "I remember when you fell in love with me."

"Don't," she rasped, jerking away. She shook her head viciously. "Don't do this." Her breath was harsh, but her words held a strong power over him.

He stood perfectly still. "Do you remember?" It sounded like a question, but coming from his lips, Ginny knew it was a statement.

Of course she remembered. How could she forget? It had been the very reason she left her life in such a hurried mess. But, even though, deep down inside her heart, she recalled every drugging kiss and stolen smile, she could never indulge in those memories. Ginny changed the subject. "How does it feel to be the Minister?" Her voice was light and she was extremely pleased with her politeness. If she was to live her life in England again, then she would need to become an acquaintance.

Not replying, he summoned a robe with his wandless hand and handed it to her. "I've arranged a late dinner in the dining hall. One of the house-elves will escort you there after you've gotten ready."

"What?" she asked, perplexed. "Dinner? I'd actually rather just go home and-"

Her sentence was cut off with the slamming of the door.

How long had she slept? Could she have possibly been asleep for an entire day? How much did she have to drink? Ron must be so worried, she wondered. My family is going to kill me, she added. She stared at the closed door and huffed. He always seemed to get his way.

It seemed like a castle, Ginny thought, walking through the manor. The drapes were rich with gold and the moldings on the walls were intricate with design. Every step she took was like entering a completely different world – a world that she didn't and would never belong in.

She shifted in the black dress she was forced to wear. Her Yuki Shane slip was soiled with her drool and the alcohol. There was no way she was going to wear it until it was dry-cleaned. The clothing Draco had left her smelled faintly of him, but somehow, she knew they belonged to his wife. The style was classic and sophisticated – something Ginny could never pull off.

You could leave right now, she told herself. You could find a Floo and get the fuck out of here.

But a part of Ginny wanted to stay – to know – to find out why he had left her so long ago. She wanted to discover all his secrets. But, Ginny's shoulder dropped shamefully, she also wanted to stay to be close to him – to feel his presence next to her again. Years of nightmares and absentminded thoughts led her to crave him and just him.

She made a slow right and admired the gorgeous paintings around her. Botticelli, Rockwell, Santiago … Ginny's eyes roamed the expensive art with jealousy. Many of them belonged in museums. She snorted when she spotted an Andy Warhol.

"Miss Wheezy," rasped a timid voice from behind her.

Shrieking like a mad woman, Ginny spun around and backed up against the wall. She sighed in relief when she came knee-to-face with a house elf. "Dobby?" she asked, shocked to the core.

He nodded. "Dobby is happy to see Miss Wheezy. Will Miss Wheezy please follow Dobby to eating room?" His eyes widened and he trembled slightly.

Ginny bent down and smiled softly. "I can find my own way," she told him gently, "There's no need for you to trouble yourself."

"Dobby is no troubling himself. Dobby does this for Minister as a favor. Dobby knows Minister is a good man," he explained in a rush.

"A good man?" Ginny repeated, not believing her ears. "You're saying the Minister is a good man?"

"Yes. Dobby thinks he is a great man. A man who cares much for Miss Wheezy," he said breathlessly, unsure if his statements were allowed to be said.

Ginny swallowed, unable to process what he said. "Dobby," she whispered, "Is there a Floo anywhere on this level?" she asked, her fear now consuming her. Although she yearned to find out why he had left her, the explanation itself terrified her. She knew that it would hurt her – and in the midst of her brother's recent death – she simply knew she couldn't handle it.

"Dobby is not permitted to say," he replied, backing away from her.

She tried to coax him with the hair tie she had buried in her mass of red locks. "I could free you?" she suggested meekly. She exhaled exhaustedly. "Dobby, please," she begged, "I just really need to get home to my family."

"Dobby cannot, Miss Wheezy," he persisted, frightened. "Dobby cannot."

Ginny watched as his eyes scanned the area behind her and she spun around. "Fuck!" she screeched, falling back into Dobby as Draco glared menacingly from above her. Breathing heavily, she gripped Dobby's small hand and snapped, "Do you usually just lurk about in the shadows?!"

He smirked. "Usually, yes." He eyed a fearful Dobby. "Bribing my house elves, are you?"

"I wouldn't have to if you'd just let me leave," she retorted nastily, getting up and dusting off her dress. She glowered at him. "This is absolutely unnecessary and if I had my wand, I would-"

"Well, you don't, do you?" he interrupted her coolly. "That's what you get for seldom using it in Paris."

"How did you know that?" she breathed, confused.

Draco cleared his throat and gestured to Dobby. "I can escort Miss Weasley to the dining room, Dobby. You can go back to your rooms."

"Yes, Minister, Sir," he said hurriedly, leaving the scene.

Ginny didn't falter. "How did you know that?" she repeated, taking a defensive stance. For him to know that she didn't use her wand meant that he had watched her – or asked about her. She tried to ignore that relentless feeling in the pit of her stomach. Did he care?

"I hope you like sushi," he said absentmindedly, walking away from her and into another darkened corridor.

Ginny growled and trailed after him like an angry puppy. "I asked you a question, you arrogant arse, and I demand an answer!" She stomped her foot for an effect.

He snorted and shook his head. "I assumed you matured in France, but your petulance is as blinding as ever."

Her eyes widened at his insult. "You bastard," she hissed, grabbing the back of his suit jacket and jerking him to her. She pushed him up against the wall. "This little cat and mouse game that you're playing is ridiculous. I'm not a seventh year anymore, Malfoy. I grew up a very long time ago." Anguish laced every word from her mouth. "I don't want to be here. Especially not with you."

His eyes darkened almost immediately. Without one word, he grasped her arms and changed their positions – Ginny was now up against the wall, horrified. He opened his mouth to say something, but he pursed his lips instead. His eyes were swimming with dark grays and blues and Ginny became lost in them. They were the very same eyes she fell in love with years ago.

"Draco, you're hurting me," she mumbled, wincing at his tight grip.

He instantly let go, but still said nothing.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

The question was simple, but its meaning was dire. An answer could rebuild or destroy – and although Ginny desired the former, she had no idea what to expect from him. She had not spoken to him in two years. She no longer knew his likes and his dislikes. He was different from who he used to be, just as she was.

"It was my ambition," he said suddenly, "To become Minister."

Ginny sighed. He was replying to her previous question in his bedroom.

"I guess you have everything you've always wanted."

"Not everything," he whispered, not looking at her. He stepped and cleared his throat. "Let's get to dinner."

She nodded dumbly and followed him through the winding halls of his manor. Some of the magical paintings around her stared down in pity. It was as if they knew what she was thinking and what had happened. Maybe they did.

"I actually do love sushi," she blurted randomly, falling into step with him. "A close friend of mine in Paris took a Japanese cooking class and the sushi she made was always so divine."

"It's a wonderful delicacy. It is a food that is either loved or hated," he stated, hands stiff at his sides.

Gods, Ginny thought, this conversation was inane. "Did you make the sushi yourself?" Something in her voice hinted that he didn't, but he turned to her and grinned.

"Actually, I did."

She gasped in surprise. "You did not!" she challenged, laughing. "You were making sushi? The almighty Draco Malfoy actually sullying himself with raw fish? Unbelievable!"

"It's also the best sushi you'll ever have," he informed her arrogantly.

They finally reached a pair of oak doors. Draco suavely opened the right one and motioned for her to walk in. Ginny did without hesitation and struggled to catch her breath.

It was stunning. The table was as long as the House tables were back at Hogwarts, but scratches and indentations were absent; instead, the table gleamed underneath the chandeliers. The chairs were lined and cushioned with what Ginny could only identify as silk. She smiled. Draco was always a fan of silk and satin. Only two places were set – the head and the seat beside it.

"Come," he said formally, holding out his arm.

Ginny stared it for a few seconds before hesitantly putting her arm in his. They walked towards the gorgeous setting and he courteously pulled out her chair. She sat down, her emotions consuming her. It was like a dream – a dream she had been dreaming for a very long time. She had hoped – so desperately hoped – for this to finally occur. Her mind had been full of thoughts of him – she would think of him at work, at her interviews, and at home. She wished that he would darken her doorstep and demand to love her.

She had dreamed.

Ginny released a shaky breath. He had not come to see her in Paris. Her dreams never came true. He completed his mission of becoming the Minister and married his rich and pureblooded wife. He lived in a striking manor by the sea and was delegated the fate of the Wizarding world. She had spent so much time daydreaming like a moron that she completely forgot that he had a life separate from her. And he chose that life in the end.

"You should try the shrimp tempura," he suggested brightly, picking up his chopsticks.

She did what he recommended and chewed slowly. It tasted delicious.

"The eel is amazing as well."

Her hands moved on their own accord while her mind strayed elsewhere. Isn't this what she had wanted? Hadn't she prayed for this day to come? To be near him again – to be close to him like this.

No.

She did not want to become some sort of mistress to the Minister. Her heart and her morals would not allow it. His wife was off visiting a friend and here he was: having dinner with her like it was normal. Pansy Malfoy was a good wife, Ginny noticed. She was sweet and intelligent and level-headed. To do this with Draco was to hurt Pansy and their unborn child. Ginny no longer wished to be a pawn in his game again.

"Ginevra?"

She looked up at him, steely brown eyes dark with determination. "Why did you leave me?" she asked, her heart thudding manically in her chest.

He stilled, silence filling the room.

"I never left. You did," he quipped, pouring himself a glass of wine.

"You broke my heart," she whispered, dropping the chopsticks.

He paused once more. "You weren't in my plans," he stated.

"Your plans?" she echoed hollowly.

"Yes," he replied shortly, gracefully eating his sushi without a care in the world.

She expected to feel pain and sorrow, but only anger spread throughout her body. "Tell me, Minister," she started icily, "What were your plans?" When he didn't respond, she proceeded with her verbal lashing, "Screw the female Weasley for a bit and then when all your fucking dreams come true, dump her in the end?" Ginny laughed bitterly and stood up, her napkin falling to the floor. "Neville told me about your feature in the paper. You had planned all of this while we were …"

She could no longer find a word for what had transpired between them. "You knew that you would leave me, but instead of filling me in, you led me to believe that we had a future together. I thought …" She let out a soft sob. "I thought that … everything that you had told me was true. But now … coming here and seeing you and this life you built for yourself … I realize that everything you did was to prepare for your politics. You can have your gorgeous wife and your prestigious position." She pushed the chair back, listening as it scratched deafeningly on the floor. "I left England for a reason. And I'm so bloody glad I did."

Just as she turned to stalk away, one phrase caused her to stiffen.

"You have no idea what the hell you are saying," he hissed, enraged.

"I know exactly what I am saying," she retorted frigidly. She didn't bother to turn around. "It's you that can't decide what you want."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," he drawled.

"You are married to one of the most influential witches of our time," she stated slowly, spinning around to face him. "But, here you are, having dinner with a woman that you hurt years ago." Ginny threw her hands up in defeat. "You can't seem to choose!"

"Between what?" he snapped.

"Between your past and your present!" she whispered fiercely, staring at him with wide eyes.

"You're mental," he declared, wiping the corner of his mouth with his napkin. "I am only dining with you out of convenience. You were inebriated to a point of unconsciousness and as the Minister, I offered to let you rest in a quiet place."

"I see." Her voice was void of emotion and her eyes drooped. "Well, Minister, I would like to thank you very much for your hospitality. And as my brother's funeral is approaching, I must be on my way to be with my family." Ginny blinked once to try and feel, but her entire body was numb. "If you would kindly show me the Floo …"

"It is rude to interrupt a dinner," he said, smirking.

"Fuck you," she spat carelessly. "Your manners may have an air of grace, but I know better. You're still the same spoiled git that always got his way."

"And you're still a childish brat that never understands," he snapped, infuriated. He slapped both strong hands on the dinner table and flew away from the table. "You don't know the consequences of my actions – your actions – our actions." He turned to her with violent eyes. "You think this is how I wanted things to turn out?"

"I don't know," she answered quietly. "I no longer know what it is that you want."

"You left," he said softly, rubbing his face tiredly. "You left and I …"

From the sound of his voice, Ginny knew that this conversation had taken a terrible turn. No matter what had happened in the past, they were now in the present, and he was a married politician. They both had individual lives and to intertwine those would be devastating.

"I left because you refused to return my owls," she suddenly divulged. "I left because after the whirlwind of insanity we shared together … you were quick to forget about me." Ginny shrugged, the words she had wanted to say for a long time seeping from her lips easily. "I don't know what hurt more. Leaving my family without so much as an explanation or losing the relationship," she enunciated the word, not sure what else to call what they had, "That I had with you." She let out a breath and traced a shaky finger down the back of the elegant chair. "And now, discovering that it was your mission all along to … to have all of this," she gestured to the room, "To have the Ministry and the wife and children and …" Her voice broke. "I was never a part of your future, was I?"

Silver eyes slowly made their way to her face and he looked ashamed and proud at the same time. Only a feat that a Malfoy could perform, Ginny thought.

She nodded, feeling irrelevant and ridiculous. "I need to go," she whispered, her breathing becoming erratic. She ran across the dining room, heart thudding painfully in her chest. She ignored his calls for her to come back, but she was sure she heard his swift footsteps behind her. She pushed the grand oak door open and practically flew into the corridor. Looking left and right, she made a quick decision and jetted to the left, her head spinning. He was following her. She could feel him, even if he was more than a few feet away.

Just as her foot caught the edge of the carpet, Ginny yelped and fell forward, but not before colliding into a hard body. She landed on top of the other person and tried to catch her breath.

Ginny rolled over and glanced at her personal landing bed. "Ron?" she gasped, staring in confusion as her brother groaned, face in the carpet.

He turned his head and sputtered. "Gin? What … what are you doing here?"

The rest of the story is in bits & pieces. I'm so ashamed to admit it. If I don't finish it, I'll post up the rest of the random scenes. Boo. I'm sorry, guys.