Ginny Thomas shivered as she stood outside in the cold. It was wintertime in England, and snow and ice cracked under her boots. Her breath puffed out in front of her face every time he breathed out. One hand held her coat together, the other was wrapped around a glass of Firewhiskey. The sky was clear, a perfect night for stargazing, except for the fact that it was a little below freezing outside.

But it didn't matter to her. Her face was tilted up to the sky, her brown eyes searching for the familiar constellation. Unshed tears blinded her sometimes, making her search a bit more difficult. Her hand brought the Firewhiskey up to her lips and she took a swallow of it. The amount in the glass wouldn't get her drunk, not anymore, but it was just enough to dull the slicing pain in her chest. Her other hand let go of her coat and reached up to rub at her eyes. She wouldn't - couldn't - let her family see her crying. Well intentioned they may be, but they were also nosy, and she didn't feel like dredging up more memories of the past. She especially didn't feel like explaining why she was crying over the death of Draco Malfoy.

Finally spotting the dragon constellation, she smiled.

She and Draco had been in more then their fair share of spats, but she hadn't seen him for over six years, since he left Hogwarts, supposedly to follow in his father's footsteps. She'd heard rumors that he had indeed turned to the Dark Arts, but she still held on to her childish hope that he would become his own person and shake off his father's influence. But with over four years passing and still no word from him, Dean had reappeared in her life. They had gone out briefly in Hogwarts, but it hadn't worked out right then. But it was working now, although her heart had never forgotten that bright fire that she and Draco had conjured.

She sighed as she heard Ron's voice rise, the words being stopped at the door, but she could guess what it was about. She took another gulp of the Firewhiskey and set the glass against her forehead. She had to get back inside soon, before her absence started to raise suspicions. She knew that her husband had some questions about the time that they were apart, but he thankfully held onto his questions. She didn't feel like exposing that part of her life, the time when she had rebelled against being the perfect Weasley daughter.

Damn Draco.

Why did he have to disappear like that? Why did he leave her an empty side of a bed for over six years? Why did he leave her alone so long that she finally took comfort from another? Why did he have to die?

A sob shook her body, her teeth painfully biting her lower lip so that she wouldn't make a sound. The loss of Draco was so profound, so deep; she wondered how she would survive it. A solitary tear dipped from her tight control, sliding down her cheek, a patch of warmth in the bitter cold. She wiped it away angrily, and stared up at the dragon constellation, keeping her eyes open so they would dry.

She had to get back inside. She gulped down the last of the Firewhiskey, letting it blaze a trail of warmth down to her stomach. She turned to go back inside, but paused. She looked over her shoulder once more to Draco the dragon. Raising cold, numb fingers to her lips, she blew a kiss to the constellation.

-fini