The Myth of Innocence
Alternate Ending
Author's Note: The entire chapter is not completely different, I'm afraid. If you don't feel like reading the chapter if you've already read it, simply click here to skip to the original part of this chapter.
Blaise consoled Draco as well as he could, and finally let Pansy and Millicent take Draco to his bed. They drugged him with a hefty dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion in the hope that a good nights (or day’s, rather) sleep would cure Draco’s depression.
A restless energy filled Blaise. He skipped his classes in favour of prowling the halls, using the Invisibility potion that Virginia made when she was still theirs. The energy inside him grew. It was vicious, unrelenting. He knew if he stopped he wouldn’t be able to control himself or his magic. Blaise knew that this restlessness was caused by worry for Draco. Somewhere in there, though, there was also anger. A deep, almost hidden anger directed toward one person alone; Ginny Weasley.
Despite it, he didn’t want to hurt her. He knew how much Virginia had loved her. He understood why Virginia had been the one to leave instead of Ginny. But he hated the way Ginny seemed to have gone back to her life, completely unchanged by the events that had occurred. Everyone who had merely spoken to Virginia had been changed in some way. To Blaise, his changes felt irrevocable. And yet, the person who knew Virginia better than anyone else, who had lived in the same body, went about life as usual.
Blaise had had a long time to adjust to the death of Virginia. Unlike Draco, he had never believed that she would wake up. He’d watched his little sister die; had seen her fall out of a tree at their estate and snap her neck. He had been the one to rush over to her. He’d seen the blank eyes, the lack of possession in the body. When Gypsy had died, Blaise had argued and bartered. He’d screamed with his mother, prayed to any god he could remember, promising them everything if only they’d bring his baby sister back.
No, Blaise had never entertained the hope the Virginia was still alive. He’d seen the absence of her from the first moment he’d walked in the door. Potter holding what had looked like a chicken, Granger holding what was obviously a spell book. He’d heard Draco’s fears of Tom Riddle, knew that the Trio and Draco had been tense in the days leading up the spell. And yet, he hadn’t thought that Draco would honestly put Virginia in jeopardy. He’d known, and he’d had time to get over his grief.
But there was still that lingering anger, and that ever-mounting energy. So involved was he in his thoughts, Blaise didn’t realise there was someone coming toward him until she ran into him. The force snapped him out of his invisibility. He lifted her quickly as she stumbled. She’d been moving at a brisk pace and had been stopped dead in her tracks. Her hair was mussed from the collision, but otherwise the red locks gleamed with health and vitality. She looked at him, completely helpless in his grasp. He noticed how calm her brown eyes were, even then. Her slight form was shaking from cold, but he could feel the heat of her skin burning through her clothes. Another wave of anger swamped him before he tamped it down.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head slowly. For a second Blaise stared at her. As he set her back on the floor, he noticed how immaculate her robes were, even if they were old. She seemed perfectly groomed. A great contrast between that of Draco’s rumpled clothes.
She thanked him quietly, stepped around him and started down the hall. Her head was bent, and she seemed almost to want to lean on the walls as she walked; she was so close to them. Another burst of anger surged through him, and he raced after her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. Nearby was an unused classroom, and he pulled open the door and pushed her inside.
Startled but not hurt, she watched him with some apprehension.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Definitely not what she had expected, Blaise deduced with a nasty amusement. She took a step back and he could have killed her.
With a slightly shaky voice, she replied, “I didn’t do anything, I swear.”
“That’s the whole point! You haven’t done a thing since Virginia died! Oh, yes, I know about Virginia,” he said darkly. “You just carry on like nothing’s happened!”
Her silence seemed to scream.
Blaise – knowing that Virginia was the feisty one, not Ginny – took no heed of what (on Virginia) would have been a warning. “Nothing Virginia’s ever done has rubbed off on you! She died so you could live, and here you are going back to the little doormat that you used to be!” Odd how as his anger seemed to be decreasing, the tension in the room seemed to be increasing. For a second Blaise dwelled on that, but there was more he needed to say. “I’ve seen you during lunch times, bowing and scraping to that family of yours. To the trio. God,” he sneered, “While Draco’s sitting there almost suicidal because of Virginia’s death, you’re busy falling in love with Potter again. You’ve probably thrown yourself at him again and-” Somehow Blaise seemed to realise that he’d gone too far, stopping himself.
The desk that Ginny was leaning on shattered. She took no heed, her tense muscles seeming to be all the support she needed. She was so nonchalant, it seemed almost like she were leaning on an invisible desk. She kept one arm braced behind her. Blaise looked at the sight with some wonderment, before turning his attention to Ginny.
Almost unable to believe that he’d said those things to her, she spoke in a clipped, controlled voice. “While it is my understanding that you were close to Virginia, you must understand that I am not her. Therefore, next time you feel the need to speak to me, you will do so in polite terms, or I will hex you into next century. My relationship – or lack thereof – with Harry James Potter is none of your business whatsoever, Mr. Zabini. And as for Mister Malfoy, I was not the one who was stupid enough to get involved with him in the first place.” Ginny sneered slightly. “Virginia always was a stupid bitch.” Shocked that she’d said that about the soul that she’d loved (and yes, sometimes hated) so much, Ginny stared with wide eyes at Blaise.
“I didn’t mean that,” she whispered. She honestly hadn’t. Virginia had always been the more intelligent of the two of them. She’d always been able to come up with solutions to their problems, always known when to speak and when to be silent...obviously something that Ginny still hadn’t.
He sneered at her. “You aren’t fit to lick her boots. At least she wasn’t afraid to be somebody. You will end up a housewife with twenty thousand kids reminiscing about your school years and deluding yourself of how far you could have gone.” He shot her another scathing glance and swept out of the room.
She watched him leave, once again feeling the essence of her life slowly crumbling around her, like she had so often before she’d let Virginia take over. Shivering slightly in a sudden chill, Ginny wrapped her cloak closer around her.
.
An hour after his confrontation with Ginny, Blaise had spoken to the other members in Draco’s ‘group of renegades’ and they’d set up a watch. Scared shitless about what Draco might do were he left alone, Blaise ordered them to keep an eye on him around the clock.
Draco finally protested. He’d slowly pulled himself together, although, even now, he was only a shadow of his former self. Much more subdued than he had been, he once again took control of his group.
He’d noticed that Ginny had left the potions class; even in his dazed state it was hard not to realize Blaise’d been without a partner in Potions. However, apart from that quick thought, Draco barely knew she existed anymore. If she had been an intrusive presence, then perhaps he may not have been able to accept Virginia’s death. But as it was, he rarely thought of Ginny, and saw her even less. Slowly but surely, she drifted from his mind.
It came as a shock, a fortnight later, to realise that he hadn’t thought of Virginia for three days. Appalled, Draco asked himself how he could forget her, when Ginny attended the same school as he did. For the next day, Draco looked everywhere he could to see a glimpse of Ginny. It was only on the second day that he saw her, and the sight was a great shock to him. She barely seemed to exist. She no longer seemed to have friends; was that different to before Virginia took over? He couldn’t remember, he’d never taken much notice of her. She seemed to withdraw more and more with every day that passed. And even when Draco knew she was afraid of him, he couldn’t help but worry. She had to be feeling the same sort of loss as he and Blaise. But she had no one to lean on, unless she’d confided in her family.
She was sitting alone at breakfast that day, her cheeks slightly pinched. Her lower lip jutted out into a little pout. Her skin was sallow where it had once been glowing, and there were dark rings underneath her eyes. As he watched, she wrapped her now-ever-present cloak tighter around her. Even from here he could see the sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her hand was shaking as she lifted up her spoon to sip from the hot soup that had been served.
Concerned, but not overly worried, he watched her eat her breakfast, and left the hall just before she finished.
He was back again for dinner, watching her closely. She’d chosen sausages and mashed potatoes for dinner. Just before she began to eat, she flicked her hair back off her face. He knew that Virginia would have pulled her hair back and secured it there so that it wouldn’t be in her way. He kept watching her, and she glanced at him with a timid disbelief, and then continued ignoring him.
She left just a couple of minutes later, having eaten little.
Turning to Blaise, he said in a quiet voice: “You don’t need to follow me around anymore. I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“That I’m okay? Yes. But I’m not too sure about her.” He inclined his head toward Ginny.
Blaise scoffed. Draco scowled. “What?”
When Blaise spoke, his voice was bitter. “I’ve had a few encounters with Miss Weasley. Believe me, she’s fine.”
Fine, eh? Draco thought as she closed her eyes slowly. She looked tired. Stressed, perhaps. Nervous? Why should she be nervous, though? It wasn’t as if he and Blaise were going to say anything to anyone about Ginny and Virginia. Unless Blaise had said something to her...he honestly seemed to hate Ginny.
Frowning, Draco subsided once more, leaving Blaise to think he agreed with him.
.
He next saw her two days later; a Friday. Not surprising, as he’d deliberately sought her out. She seemed even more nervous than she had at breakfast on the Wednesday. She was sitting propped up on a wall, her legs splayed awkwardly over the floor. It took him a minute to realise that she’d not sat there out of choice. Her legs had simply given out on her.
Draco dropped down beside her. It seemed to take so much effort for her to even drag her gaze to him, and when she realised who he was she didn’t even react. His hand cupped her cheek and alarm flared in his gaze; she was boiling hot. “Are you ill?” He asked with concern.
“No, Malfoy,” she croaked. “I just happen to like sitting in corridors during the middle of the day.”
He smiled. Actually smiled; something he hadn’t done since he lost Virginia. But she was so ridiculous, sitting in the middle of the corridor, barely able to lift her head, and yet still snapping out sarcastic comments. Perhaps there was more to her than Ginny-Good-Girl. He hefted her into his arms and stood up. Awkward to be sure, but there wasn’t much else to do.
He realised that if most men really did this, then they’d all have very sore backs. Ginny was an almost-dead weight in his arms, and he strained to keep holding her. If she’d been strong enough to use her muscles it wouldn’t have been so bad – would probably have been enjoyable, in fact. Even now, with his arms aching, he loved feeling like he was protecting someone, loved feeling that he was needed. He hefted her higher and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Where are we going?” She sighed.
“To the infirmary.” He didn’t look down at her, busy watching for any signs of help...or hindrance. He wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted help. To be perfectly honest.
“No.”
“No what?”
She explained in a surprisingly forceful voice. “No, I am not going to the infirmary. I have had enough of hospitals to last me a lifetime. In six years, I have been landed twice for serious illnesses, and I’m not going back there again. All I need is some Pepper Up Potion. If I can have some of that, I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” He didn’t believe her. He wasn’t stupid. If it got any worse, he’d take her to Madame Pomfrey. If she insisted that he didn’t, he’d take her to the Gryffindors instead and let them deal with her. But a Pepper Up Potion wasn’t a bad idea. He decided to accommodate her, just for once.
He’d go to Crabbe; Crabbe always had most medicines. A bloody hypochondriac, was Crabbe. It was such a silly weakness for someone so hulking, but there it was.
“Okay.” He set her in a conclave behind a tapestry, with a sort of window seat attached. Not that there was a window, but it was a place to sit. “Wait here. I’ll be back soon.”
.
It took him no time at all to return to the conclave with the Pepper Up Potion in his hands. He smiled when he saw Ginny sitting there; somewhere between the second floor and the dungeons he’d realised that it probably wasn’t wise to leave her by herself. She seemed slightly better, oddly enough. More coherent, at least. He was so relieved at her sudden perk up that he frowned. Why should he care, anyway?
It wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on.
He measured out the potion and gave it to Ginny. Within seconds of sipping at it, her ears started smoking. She relaxed slightly. “Thanks, Malfoy.” Her hectic flush seemed to calm a bit, and she actually smiled at him.
Malfoy.
He frowned. He didn’t want to hear that, not from her.
She seemed to realise it too because her face suddenly closed up. “I’m not her.” She said shortly.
“What?”
“I said I’m not her, Malfoy. I saw that wistful look, as if you wanted something really badly.” She laughed shortly. “And Merlin knows that look wouldn’t be for me.” He wasn’t sure how to respond, but was saved the task when she continued. “I am not Virginia. I am Ginny Weasley. Ginevra Weasley, if you want to get down to it.” Ginevra? He’d always just assumed that Ginny was short for Virginia. Where the hell did Virginia come from, then? She shook her head. “And I am sick of paying for things I did not do. It was not me who got involved with you, it was not me who stuffed up everyone’s life, it was not me who tried to become a death eater or who shamed my family by living with the Slytherins.” She buried her head in her hands. She looked like she was crying.
Draco panicked. “Oh, God, Weasley, are you crying?”
She slowly raised her head to look at him. Her eyes were completely dry. “No, Malfoy, I am not crying. I am simply contemplating my circumstances.”
He nodded. An awkward silence fell over them, and then Draco sat next to her, moving her legs so he could sit down. He returned her legs to their former position, although they were now across his lap. Now why had he done that? “My circumstances aren’t much better, you know.”
Seemed to cheer her up a bit, really. A good sign.
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah,” he sighed. “First of all, I’ve lost all respect from my housemates. And my reputation is caput. The big, bad Draco Malfoy being dumped by little Ginny Weasley, and then completely falling apart is the biggest news for months. Of course, you and I and Blaise know that I wasn’t dumped, that she died," -- it was amazingly easy to talk about Virginia's death in such light terms -- "but the rest of the world doesn’t. I’m living with a hypochondriac, a vicious lout who snores, and someone who worries over me day and night like a mother hen. If that isn’t enough, I think my hair is thinning!” He pointed to his head “Do you think it is? It isn’t as lush as it used to be.” He looked at her. She was smiling. Weakly smiling, but that was probably more her having the flu than not being amused. He was glad she was amused. He didn’t like it when she was upset.
Now why did he think that?
Ginny wasn’t anything to him. He didn’t know anything about her. He hadn’t spoken to her before now. And within seconds of speaking to her, he had realised that she was nothing like Virginia. Virginia was loud lightening storms; exhilarating, entrancing. Ginny was...she was like soft English rain. Quiet, understated, but with enough punch when she wanted it.
The silence had stretched out unbearably. Draco patted her shin and stood up. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll go back to your Common Room. You won’t even have to worry about passwords; I’m sure you can get them changed.” After a pause, she nodded.
He lifted her into his arms and followed her directions to the Gryffindor quarters. When they reached the Fat Lady, Ginny muttered the password in an undertone; so quietly Draco didn’t even catch it. It was the correct one though, as the Fat Lady swung open, and Draco climbed through. He was surprise by the common room; it was much more spacious than theirs. Red and gold were streaked liberally throughout the room, and there was a nice-looking feinting couch in front of the fire. He placed her there and stoked the fire, grabbing a nearby cover and draping it over her. He gave a little smile. “Goodnight, Weasley.”
“Night Malfoy.”
.
Draco didn’t see her for a few days after that. He assumed she was recovering, but he didn’t bother to check up on her; it was best for both of them if they cut connections as much as possible. They weren’t alike, really. They had nothing in common except Virginia, and she was gone forever.
If she needed help though, then he’d be there. A knight in armour, perhaps. He liked the thought.
He caught a glimpse of her turning a corridor that afternoon. It was so tempting to chase after her to make sure that she was okay, but he restrained himself. If she’d wanted to talk to him, to thank him, then she’d have done so, surely. But she hadn’t. So he turned around and took a different path to Potions.
He avoided talking to Blaise, though. Blaise was too intuitive; he’d know immediately that something was up. And Draco didn’t want to talk about that ‘something’. Not yet, not when the image of a redhead was imprinted on his brain. An image of a redhead completely helpless, yet still trusting him implicitly. And he still didn’t know what that ‘something’ meant.
But at the very least, he wanted to get to know the person who had been there before Virginia; who knew Virginia just as well as she knew herself.
He wanted to find the girl behind the myth. The soul behind Virginia. The substance in Virginia's illusion.
.
“Have you seen Malfoy lately?”
“Ron,” Hermione sighed impatiently, “I try to make it a habit not to look at Malfoy as much as possible.” She was frustrated with Ron, disappointed in the relationship that had almost been. And at the same time she kept longing for him to make a move, she kept pushing things firmly back to where they had always been; friendship.
“He’s been staring at Ginny. All the time. Like he can’t stop. He looks for her everywhere, I swear.”
“Well, what do you expect? They broke up, Ron. Everyone has trouble not looking at the person they broke up with. You get so used to staring at them and then you can’t because you’ve broken up.” She sounded completely exasperated.
“You don’t seem to have trouble.”
That made her pause. “What?”
Ron’s ears turned red, but her persevered. “I said, you don’t seem to have any trouble.”
“Ron, I never broke up with anyone…except perhaps Viktor, but he lives a couple of countries away, so it wasn’t a problem.” His hair was all mussed up, she noticed. It looked quite adorable on him, really.
He blushed. “I meant...with us. And the non us. You never seem to have any problems not looking at me.”
Did this mean what she hoped it meant? “How would you know? You’ve never been looking at me, either, Ron.”
If it were possible he went even redder. “Look, Hermione. I don’t really know how to do this, and I can’t do that mushy stuff yet...I think you’ll have to teach me that, but.” He took a deep breath and looked petrified. “I like you Hermione. And I want to go out with you...Will you go out with me?”
A huge smile lit up her face, and she leaned forward and kissed him. When she pulled away he looked shocked. “What,” she asked with a very un-Hermione-like giggle. “You thought I’d say no?”
.
“Do you mind if I sit here?”
The futhark is an ancient Norse Rune script, used in mind...
The voice intruded on Ginny’s concentration. With frustration she crossed out the ‘mind’ she’d accidentally written and muttered her reply. “Do you see my name on the table?” A rhetorical question, of course. “Then you’re obviously free to sit here.”
The person sat down. She ignored him and concentrated on writing her Ancient Runes essay. It was a tricky one. A roll of parchment to be written on the origin of the futhark and its uses in magic.
She nibbled on her lip as she considered what to write. The futhark is an ancient Norse Script; used is both magic and life. The name futhark is derived from the first letters in its system; f u th a r and k. However, where our alphabet system is begun by abcd – sounds that have no meaning separately – the futhark is begun by fehu, uruz and þurisaz, which mean ‘cattle’ ‘aurochs’ and ‘giants’ respectively. Yes, that sounded good. She wrote it down quickly so she wouldn’t forget it, then looked up at her companion.
Not by a glance or inflection did she betray her surprise at Draco Malfoy’s appearance. “Yes?” It was then she realized that he wasn’t looking at her, or even paying her any attention. He was sitting in his chair writing what seemed to be an essay for transfiguration. He didn’t answer her. Slightly confused, she returned to her essay. Where was she? ...and ‘giants’ respectively. The futhark is the base of all runes, and therefore its uses in magic are extensive. The runes can be inscribed on talismans, or any other surface. The intriguing thing about the futhark and its magic properties is that just writing something is a spell on its own..
No, that didn’t sound right at all. She checked her textbook, The Rune Journey, and tried to figure out how to explain that concept.
It was impossible, she decided. The concept confused her, so how was she supposed to explain that simply writing a word gave power to that word? She grinned as she realised that she’d just answered her own question. She jotted that down and looked up again at Malfoy.
What was he doing here? She hadn’t even seen him since he’d helped her when she had her flu...which Madame Pomfrey had been able to cure in a second. Showed how much stubbornness would do, she thought wryly.
She needed to break the silence.
“Thank you for helping me. The other day, I mean.” He didn’t answer for a long time. She was about to say something else when he replied.
“That’s okay.”
Silence. She looked down at her parchment for a long while staring blindly at the essay. She didn’t understand why he was sitting there. Why he didn’t say anything.
“Do you need some help?”
She looked up at him with surprise. “What?”
“You seem to be having trouble. Do you want some help?” He asked.
Unwilling to admit that she hadn’t even been thinking of the essay, she nodded. She hadn’t thought he’d been paying any attention to her at all. He shuffled his chair closer to her. His head was bent, and his silvery blonde hair shined in the light. She wondered briefly how he managed to have every hair in place, but then sighed at her foolishness and looked at her paper.
He’d finished reading the title; The Origin of the Futhark and It’s Uses In Magic, and hard though it obviously was, he’d gleaned the topic. “Right. So, you’ve defined what the futhark is. All you need to do next is to talk about why people use it in magic. You’ll need to talk about rune scripts, and Bindrunes – when you combine two runes to make a new one, sort of like a contraction. If that doesn’t bring you up to length, mention something about singing or speaking runes as spells and the futhark’s uses in divination.”
She sighed, and Draco grinned down at her. She looked up and smiled. A long moment passed. The tension was too thick for Ginny to even draw a breath. Something is going on here, she thought. Something, and I don’t know what. But it’s important. She refused to be the first to break the stare.
Suddenly he was getting closer and closer. Was it her, or could she feel the warmth of his skin? He was going to kiss her. Kiss her, Ginny Weasley.
No, not her. He was going to kiss Virginia.
Ginny pulled away and turned her head. “Right, thanks for the advice,” she muttered. How could he? She’d already told him that she wasn’t Virginia. She thought she’d made it very clear. There she was, thinking that he’d wanted to be her friend, when all he’d wanted was for her to pretend to be Virginia. Well she wasn’t Virginia, and she did not pretend.
He seemed to recognise his mistake. He sat back in his seat. A hush descended over the pair. They sat in awkward silence. She tried to concentrate on her essay. She felt frozen, unable to say anything. Unable to leave. It wasn’t a spell, it was...her? She didn’t want to leave, really. She liked having someone with her, even if they didn’t talk. Even if they weren’t really friends. This was the most company she’d had in quite a while.
He’d chosen to sit with her. She should at least be nice to him, shouldn’t she? What should she say? Something witty, definitely, to show him that she was getting along just fine without Virginia – even if she still missed Virginia. And something that would distinguish her from Virginia, so he’d know exactly who he was talking to. And something cutting and sarcastic, to show she didn’t need his company (even if she did), but not so cutting that he’d leave.
Without realising what she was doing, she started scribbling down lines of what to say to him. He fixed the problem for her.
“What classes are you taking?”
He’d been with Virginia for how long and he still didn’t know her classes? “Ancient Runes, Potions, Transfiguration. Defence Against The Dark Arts, Arithmancy, and Charms. I would have taken Care of Magical Creatures, but I decided that DADA was probably more useful.” He nodded and she paused. What did she say now? “And you?”
“Potions, obviously,” he sent her a quick grin. “Charms, Transfiguration. Herbology, Defence Against The Dark Arts.”
Another silence. This was getting ridiculous. “So...do you read?” She asked nervously. Would conversation always be this difficult for them?
“Yeah, I read.” He paused for a few seconds. His expression altered slightly, and she could see him steeling himself for rejection. “Look, I just want to know...are you okay?”
Was she okay? She thought about that. She missed Virginia almost desperately sometimes. She was alone, but she didn’t mind that much anymore. Sometimes she got lonely, but at the same time... Ginny smiled softly. “Yes, I think so. I’m getting there.”
He returned her smile. “Tell me something?” She nodded. “Why was Virginia called Virginia?”
She laughed outright. “It means pure. Who else but Virginia would find a name that was chosen simply for irony?”
He laughed along with her; the first time in weeks. It was in that moment that their friendship was forged.
.
Their usual meeting place was either underneath the beech tree or in the library. Unlike Draco’s time with Virginia, there were no inter-common room meetings. Both respected each other’s house, to some extent. They didn’t think of themselves as friends, as such. A person to run to if something went wrong. Simply enemies with nothing to fight over. Simply enemies without cause and without anyone else. Not that they didn’t fight. They argued companionably about books and the merits of wizarding versus muggle.
Draco told her about his group of renegades. He asked her to join with them and she scoffed. She wouldn’t be sitting on the sidelines to see who won, she said. She would fight for what she knew to be right. It was that opinion which irrevocably drove a wedge in Draco’s mind between Virginia and Ginny.
Eventually it filtered through the castle that once again Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy were associating. It was also noted that Ginny seemed to be less aggressive this time. She wasn’t catty, she was calm. Nonetheless, she staunchly defended her right to talk to those she wanted.
There was a quiet maturity in their relationship that both had needed. They’d both changed because of Virginia’s death, although Ginny’s changes were less noticeable. They were both older, wiser.
They weren’t teenagers anymore, but they weren’t adults, either.
.
“Do you think that I’ll ever get a boyfriend?” she asked after a few minutes silence. They’d been arguing about the merits of Shakespeare versus Nairn, and at his refusal to admit that a muggle was as good as a wizard writer, she’d huffed and refused to speak to him.
He snorted and flopped down next to her. “Don’t be stupid. Of course you will.”
A sound of disbelief came from somewhere near his right ear, and then she spoke again. “I don’t.” She didn’t speak for a long while after that, but Draco could almost hear the cogs in her mind ticking, could tell that she wanted to say something that was hard for her to say. “I don’t think I’m the kind of person that...that attracts, you know, guys.
“You will, Ginny. And you are. I mean, you know when to talk and when to shut up. And you’re loyal and you love totally. Plus, you aren’t half bad-looking, either.”
He heard a sigh from her. “You’re a horrible liar, Draco. But thanks anyway.”
He wanted to tell her that no, he wasn’t lying, that he really saw her as being perfect for a guy. And not just any guy, either. But there were big looming chasms between being not-really-enemies and being friends.
He’d spent a lot of time lately, considering exactly what was going on with the pair of them. He’d also spent a lot of time pouring over the personalities of Ginny and Virginia. Virginia, he’d realised was selfish in a way Ginny was not. He supposed it was because Virginia had never had the family Ginny grew up, had never really understood what it was to be loved unconditionally.
“Draco,” she whispered softly, an almost controlled pain in her voice, “I don’t think I believe in love anymore. So much has happened and it just seems like...love is only there to hurt you. I’m never going to fall in love.” She said it so quietly that once she’d finished, he almost thought that she hadn’t spoken at all.
But in those words – the ones he didn’t want to believe she’d said – he’d seen the impossibility of their relationship; past, present and future. How could he convince her that he loved her, when she believed love equated to hurt? He had to tell her something, had to try to heal that scar before it became a festering wound..
He never got the chance.
He heard her take a deep breath. Heard her hesitate. He waited. “Ron will be graduating soon. And Harry.” He wondered what the heck that had to do with anything. He was graduating soon, too. When she spoke again Draco almost smiled. He could tell by the distortion of her voice that she would be biting her lip. “You too.”
“You aren’t going to make me stop talking to you, are you?”
Sat up and looked him in the eye, smiling. “You mean it? I wasn’t sure if you’d want to...”
“Ginny,” Draco said seriously, “That’s what friends do.”
“Are we friends?” She asked breathlessly.
He nodded. “Maybe even more than that.” Perhaps now was a chance to help her, to heal her, to let her know. And then what? Then they could struggle against family loyalty, against house rivalry, again class and society, when she didn’t even believe in love and he had to forsake his best friend to love her? No. He bit his tongue to stop himself from saying anything.
She stood up suddenly, muttered, “I have to go,” and walked away. He was left staring at her retreating form, wondering what the hell had happened to make her leave so quickly when he thought they were about to take another step in the right direction, even if he was scared of it.
Perhaps it was a good thing that she’d left. Perhaps she’d seen the longing in his eyes, too.
And yet...
He took a deep breath and shouted her name. When she turned he beckoned her back. He took hold of her wrist and said in a rush, “I love you, Ginny.”
She turned so pale it looked as though her face had been bleached. A second later her thought he must have imagined it, because her face took on a mottled grey hue. “I’ll see you later, okay Draco?” She started to walk away.
“You can’t go,” he shouted, utterly flabbergasted that she’d just ignored his declaration. “I love you!”
“Draco,” Ginny said seriously, her face still pale, but determined, too. “We both know love isn’t real. It’s just a dream. An Elysium. It’s a myth. Just like innocence.” She smiled her half-smile and turned away. She hitched up the skirt of her robe and walked away.
Love was just an Elysium. Just a paradisiacal dream. It wasn’t real. She wasn’t in love with Draco. She had to keep telling herself that.
It was time to let go.
Finis
And thus ends the alternate ending. Hope you enjoyed it.
Author's Note: This is the alternative ending to The Myth of Innocence. I wrote it because the story had been heading that way for a long time [and a sequel was planned as well], however, I found that not only did I not want the story to end that way, it didn't work properly if I did try to end it in such a way. So I scrapped that idea and wrote the ending that is up on ff.net. Now, there will be no sequel, I'm afraid, although at some point, the scene I wrote in my head and the basic premise of the sequel may appear in the extras section.
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