Bitter Chocolate - (A 'Veronica Weasley' sequel) || Draco Malfoy

58 - I'm Glad I Had You

Draco Malfoy took a deep breath as he stepped up to the gates of Potter Palace.

Another year had passed and it had been horrendous. Draco couldn't take watching his wife die slowly and painfully anymore.

Ronnie was no longer living a 'quality' life and, whilst she was still alive, Draco believed there was still hope. Except to be able to get that hope; he needed gold.

And, Draco thought, as his eyes roamed over the huge solid gold statue of the Chosen One and his Elder wand before him, Potter certainly had plenty of that.

*****

"How much?" Potter spluttered, his mouth hanging open stupidly.

"You heard," Draco muttered, absolutely hating that he - Draco Malfoy - had to go begging on his knees to this moron. "Please, if your friendship with Ronnie meant anything to you... she has two children who need their mother."

"I'm surprised you are not grabbing it out of your father's pocket." Potter sneered. "I thought you Malfoy's were loaded."

"He- he refuses to hand it over as long as I have anything to do with a Weasley." Draco muttered.

"Ah... so your answer to that was to marry her," Potter nodded, seemingly impressed. "Smart move."

"I married Ronnie because I love her." Draco snarled, feeling utterly irritated. Couldn't that bastard just give him a damn straight answer?!

"Look, Potter," Draco continued. "Will you give me the gold or not? Because whilst I'm here, I'm away from her, and I refuse to waste anymore unnecessary time on you."

"What's in it for me?" Harry bit. "Why exactly should I help you out?"

"Are you-?" Draco gave an incredulous bark of laughter. "You would seriously let your childhood best friend die because of some petty hatred towards me?"

Deciding he didn't even want to know the answer, and worried he might punch someone, Draco turned on the spot and went to leave. But a voice stopped him in his tracks before he reached the door.

"Mr Malfoy?"

Draco turned to see Albus Potter appear at the top of the stairs.

"Go back to your room, son," Potter said sternly, "this doesn't concern you."

"You're Scorp's dad, aren't you?" Albus continued, ignoring his father. "My- my uncle?"

"Yeah," Draco muttered, glancing briefly at Potter to gauge his reaction. The look of disgust upon his face said everything.

"I know Scorp's mum is ill." Albus said; his voice flat, yet emotion rife in his green eyes. "I'm sorry."

"It- it's okay," Draco said awkwardly, not really knowing what else to say to this boy. Because of course it wasn't okay. Nothing would be okay again if he lost Ronnie.

"He cries at night when he doesn't think anyone can hear him." Albus said, not unkindly. "He doesn't say it out loud but he's scared for his mum. He's also scared for his sister."

Draco's heart gave a horrific twist and he found himself drawing a sudden sharp intake of breath.

He had to turn away, through fear of crying in front of Potter.

The two male Potters in the entrance hall remained silent. Neither of them knowing what to say in the face of Draco's grief.

And then finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Harry Potter spoke.

"I'll speak to Ginny."

*****

"We're going to get you better, baby," Draco said to me, his hand clutching mine tightly as I lay weakly in bed.

I heard the hope in his voice, and I wanted to share his positivity, but I felt as though I couldn't ever come back from this. My body was giving up; I could feel it.

And I was ready to go. Every breath I took exhausted me; every time I saw my children and watched the sadness in their eyes, it broke me.

But Draco refused to give up on me, so I had to try - for him.

To my complete surprise, Harry offered to front the gold for my treatment in Canada. He and Ginny turned up at the house one night and Draco permitted them entry to the bedroom where I lay helpless in.

I was relieved to see that Ginny had ditched that awful haircut. I could only guess that Harry had finally forked out for a decent stylist.

She squeezed my hand, but couldn't seem to bring herself to say anything, and instead went running from the room. I figured she was just overcome by emotion at seeing her dying sister; either that or she desperately needed a piss.

Draco reluctantly left the room, leaving Harry and I alone.

Harry took the chair next to my bed and for a long time we just looked sadly at one another, saying nothing.

"I'm glad you lied all those years ago," he murmured quietly; eventually. "I'm glad I had you."

"I'm glad I had you too," I said, as I smiled weakly up at him.

And then, to my surprise, he got up off the chair and carefully laid himself down on the bed next to me, scooping me into his arms.

"I love you Ronnie Weasley," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

The moment was so sweet and made me feel so overwhelmed with love for a long ago friendship, that I didn't have the heart to tell the fucktard that my name was no longer Weasley.

But I supposed I always would be, to him.

*****

We couldn't take the kids with us, so I had to say goodbye to them at the hospital just before my departure to Canada.

"When Mummy comes home, she'll be as good as new," I heard Draco promise them as they stood over the stretcher that the air mediwizards had just loaded me onto.

I was to go by aeroplane; being far too weak for magical transportation. The specialist Healer who was going to treat me was going to meet us the second we arrived in Canada.

Only Draco was allowed to come with me; the rest of the aeroplane to be filled with mediwizards.

I hugged Freida first; now seven, almost eight years old.

"You be a good girl for me and look after your big brother," I whispered in her ear. "He pretends he's tough but he needs you."

"I love you, Mummy," she whispered back in a trembling voice, squeezing me a little tighter than she was usually permitted.

I kissed her beautiful strawberry blond hair and inhaled her scent, trying to memorise every detail of her.

She was my funny little daughter, very much like me with her short temper and constant frown when she thought anyone was making fun of her. But she loved so fiercely; especially her big brother. Which was no surprise as he was crazily protective over her; almost like a father to his little girl.

And next I kissed my son goodbye. My wonderful, precious just turned thirteen year old son.

As I looked into his sad grey eyes, I tried to tell him I loved him, but the words stuck in my throat. I was suddenly afraid of letting him go, fearful that I wouldn't see him ever again.

"I love you, Mum," he murmured, his lower lip quivering dangerously.

"You are a brilliant boy," I breathed, feeling tears fall down my cheeks. "Never forget that, Scorp, I- I love... I love-" but I choked, not being able to finish my sentence.

"I know Mum," he wept, tears now falling down his own face. "I know."

And then I was being wheeled away; away from my children and towards the aircraft that was to take me away.

I had no idea if I would ever see them again.

*****