Chapter 1 : Chances Lost
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I disclaim! Nothing is mine :)
And I'll miss your laugh your smile
I'll admit I'm wrong if you'd tell me;
So here I am, I'm trying.Blink 182 - Always.
Draco Malfoy would never, ever admit he was obsessed. That would indicate a weakness, which he was convinced he did not have. Draco Malfoy was a man of refinement, allure and strength. He did not have time for weaknesses of any sort.Of course, he was obsessed.
“You’re obsessed,” Blaise Zabini told him helpfully from the desk he was perched on in Draco’s office.
Draco pursed his lips as he wrote down, in spiralled script, the latest office supplies he would need to order this month. He sucked on his quill-end absentmindedly.
“You just admitted it!” Blaise said simply, sliding from the desk.
Draco huffed, “I admitted nothing.”
“Didn’t!” Draco stood up threateningly, emitting a grin from Blaise. Draco lowered his, alas, empty wand hand and began to pace, “It must be a spell.”
Blaise raised one eyebrow comically. Draco didn’t notice; he kept pacing. Blaise watched him, trying not to laugh out loud. He brushed his dark hair from his equally dark eyes, and caught Draco’s grey ones. The difference between the two men was astounding; Draco was as pale and blonde as Blaise was dark-skinned.
“Or a potion,” Draco replied, still pacing.
Blaise watched his friend with a idle smile, “Stop bloody pacing, Draco, or you’ll wreck the floor.”
Draco gave a noncommittal shrug, still pacing.
Blaise grinned again, slouching into Draco’s empty seat. He leant back in the chair, “Back in the dating game so fast though, Draco, after your wife‘s sad, sad passing.”
“I’m not back in the dating game!” Turning to face his friend, Draco stopped pacing for a moment, “And my ex-wife is very much alive. I have a load of bills to show for that, if you’d like some proof.”
Blaise ignored him, “You love her.”
“You want to kiss her.”
“I fucking don’t.”
“You want to bend her over this desk and--”
The office door opened.
“I hope the end of that sentence is ‘help her look for mislaid paper-clip‘, Zabini.”
Ginny Potter strolled into the room, her hips swaying with every step. Long, flaming hair hung at her waist, in soft waves.
“It is indeed,” Blaise raised his hands in defeat, “Please don’t beat me!” He added, with a mocking smirk.
Ginny rolled her eyes, slamming a notepad on the desk, “Malfoy; Wednesday morning, as promised.”
Draco nodded, a pink tinge appearing on his cheeks as Blaise grinned at the two of them. Ginny cocked an eyebrow, before wearingly shaking her head.
“You cut it short, Weasley,” Draco cleared his throat, “It is, exactly, 11:58.”
“I can tell the time,” Ginny retorted, “And, for the last time, it’s Potter.”
Draco winced, “You need to show some manners to your boss.”
“I do have manners,” Ginny perched at the end of Draco’s desk, grinning, “Unlike you,” She paused, and added, “Not unlike that son of yours! Where’d he come from?”
Draco smirked and walked around his desk. He pushed Blaise out of his chair and said firmly “Come back later, Blaise.” He sat in his seat, and said in a condescending tone, “Well you see, when a mother and father love each other very much…”
Ginny crinkled her nose, “I have three children, Malfoy. That bit isn’t the uncomfortable bit.” It was Draco’s turn to crinkle his nose.
“When have you spoken to Scorpius anyway?”
Ginny shrugged, “When he’s over my niece’s,” She laughed, “Think, Draco, we’re practically family!”
Draco coughed, disgusted. Ginny raised an eyebrow.
“My grandchildren are going to have that awful red hair!”
Ginny let out a booming, manly laugh. Draco widened his eyes; she was mental.
“Yep,” She grinned, tugging at her own flaming hair, “And all Gryffindors too, of course!”
Draco choked on air, “Excuse me!?”
Ginny nodded, “Definitely. They’re less likely to be Slytherin’s than me!” She paused, and echoed Draco’s drawl, “I am so cunning.”
Draco rolled his eyes, “You have the cunning of a sardine.”
“And you love it,” Ginny Potter smirked, getting to her feet. She paused for a moment and turned to face him, “How are you? Scorpius mentioned how hard you’re taking the divorce.”
“I’m dealing with it,” Draco murmured, not looking at her, “I think I’ve moved on, really.”
Ginny smiled; despite the sometimes catty remarks, her and Malfoy were almost friends since she started working at the Daily Prophet, “So, who’s the lucky girl?” She asked, sounding like a schoolgirl.
Draco shrugged, “No one you know. She doesn’t feel the same anyway, I’m sure.”
Ginny replied, with a teasing tone to her voice, “Who could resist you and all those push-ups!”
“When Draco Malfoy does push-ups,” Draco said lazily, “He doesn’t push himself up; he pushes the world down.”
“Draco likes to talk in third-person.”
Draco laughed, an ache in his chest, “Draco Malfoy is superior, awesome and unprejudiced; he hates everyone equally.”
Ginny gave a wry smile as she approached the office door, “Try telling Draco Malfoy that when he was in school.”
“Draco Malfoy is different now,” Draco replied quietly, running his fingers through his receding hairline.
Ginny smiled sadly, “Ginny Potter knows that,” She raised her hand in a wave as she said quietly, “Ginny wishes that Draco Malfoy had been different when she was still a Weasley.”
Draco watched her walk away, as he picked up the article she’d left, “Draco wishes that too,” He whispered, smelling the paper. It smelt like her.
Okay, maybe he could admit he was obsessed.