How To Have An Unhealthy Relationship
The peach flavoured lip gloss stung as Ginny applied it, looking in the mirror it served it's purpose: which was making the cut on her bottom lip appear redder and more inflamed than it really was, her eye shadow emphasised her nasty black eye.
Ginny wasn't really a great wearer of make up, hadn't been since school, the only reason she was wearing it today was to draw attention to her injuries. Ginny had no illusions that she could punish Draco by causing him guilt, she'd already punished him by hexing slugs to crawl under his skin for two days, but she was hoping to embarrass him. Draco still had his Malfoy pride.
"Are you ready, Weasel?" Draco Malfoy at Twenty Six looked very much like Draco Malfoy at fifteen, short, bony and pale. He barely came up too Ginny's 5'4 and was skinnier than even she was; he currently sported a gash over his cheekbone where one of Ginny's slugs had broken through the skin.
Draco stepped towards Ginny, scowling as a sneakoscope crunched under his shoe, it was already broken, Ginny had accidentally on purpose stepped on it ages ago, there was very little point in having a working sneakoscope when you were shacked up with the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, "right, lets go if we're going."
Ginny caught sight of their reflections in the mirror, they were bruised and tattered, old before their time. The mirror didn't say anything, it was a muggle mirror Ginny had bought after she'd thrown their magical one out for shouting "leave him you silly cow" every time she passed it. She followed Draco out of the flat, not bothering to lock the door; they had nothing worth stealing.
The pub was called The Flaming Salamander, it had opened in Ginny's seventh year, it had originally been geared towards Hogwarts leavers looking to celebrate their new careers and spend their newly acquired gold. These days there weren't that many Hogwarts leavers and those there were rarely had anything to celebrate, the pub had fallen into disrepair with rickety furniture and peeling orange wallpaper.
An old poster over the bar proclaimed 'Celebrate Harry Potter Day." Harry Potter day had been months ago, Ginny doubted anyone had celebrated it; there didn't seem much point in celebrating the end of a war that had resulted in this. There had been enormous losses on both sides, the ministry of magic had collapsed and what was left of the wizarding community was drifting apart.
Ginny found seats while Draco went to the bar, she sat with her back to the poster of Harry. She knew it was silly, that it was just a picture and that the real Harry was long dead, but she didn't want Harry to see her with Malfoy. Draco promptly returned with two pints of cider and two double firewhiskies, he scowled up at Harry's face as he passed her their drinks. Ginny noted with some amusement that he sat on her left side where he wouldn't have to look at her bruises.
Draco snatched up his firewhisky, "Who is it tonight?"
"Charlie,"
"To Charlie Weasley," they said in unison, downing the amber liquid, Ginny winced not from the taste but because she can imagine the look on Charlie's face if he knew who his little sister was toasting his death with.
Getting drunk every time the anniversary of the death of a friend or family member came round guaranteed them a night in the pub almost every week, last Wednesday had been the fifth anniversary of Fred's murder, the Saturday before that the three year anniversary of Lucius being given the Dementors kiss.
The day after tomorrow would be six years to the day that Ron disappeared; Ginny went to the bar to get more drinks. It was a coping mechanism.
"Do you know, Weasel," it had been a long time since Ginny had considered 'Weasel' an insult, it was the closest thing you got to an affectionate nickname with Draco. "Do you know, Weasel, I would have bet that Potter would outlive us all."
Ginny could tell that Draco was starting to feel his six pints and twelve firewhiskies, he always started talking about Harry, and 'how dare he die when everything was so fucked up', when he was pissed.
Ginny tried to think of a sensible response to Draco's ranting, but it was difficult because Ginny was a little drunk as well and all she wanted to do was sleep, and maybe eat chips. "Harry was His main target, I don't think he ever really had much of a chance."
But Ginny knows Harry's death had nothing to do with being specifically targeted by Voldemort. She can count on the fingers of one hand the people she knew who survived the war, her; Draco; Neville Longbottom (alive but as mad as a hatter); Blaise Zabini (who buggered off to France at the first sign of trouble); and Lavender Brown (who was coping in the same way Ginny and Draco were, by crawling into the bottom of a bottle.)
And just when Ginny was starting to think that this line of thought required more firewhisky the barman called time.
"C'mon Draco, let's go home," Ginny stood, trying to remember if not falling down had always taken so much concentration.
A strange look crossed Draco's face, the same look he always got when Ginny mentioned home. Neither of them really had a home, Malfoy manor had been seized along with the Malfoy gold to help with the reparations, and The Burrow had been destroyed the night the Death Eaters came for Molly, Molly Weasley may have devoted most of her life to being a wife and mother but she had also been a very powerful witch who hadn't gone out without a fight.
The flat Ginny and Draco were currently staying in had once belonged to Harry. Draco was constantly forced to reconcile his distaste for living anywhere that had once belonged to Potter with his desire not to be homeless.
Ginny walked close to the wall on the way home in case she needed something to grab hold of, Draco walked close to Ginny for the same reason. He stumbled, crashing them both into the brick wall, Draco found himself inches away from the bruises he'd been avoiding looking at all night. He ran his thumb over the freckles of Ginny's cheekbone.
"I'm sorry I hit you Weas...Ginny."
Ginny batted his hand away; she hated it when Draco tried to be nice to her. She preferred it when they snarked; and hexed; and kicked; and cursed; and hair pulled, it seemed more faithful to the past even though Ginny was sure the past had never been quite like this.
She pushed passed Draco and continued down the dark street, "I think we've got some vodka back at the flat."
Sometimes when Ginny was very drunk she compared her relationship with Draco to Harry's with Voldemort: Bound to end with mutually assured destruction.
Sometimes when she was very, very drunk she'd admit that a Malfoy was all she had left in the world.