Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter .

Almost and Two Sides to the Color Fire

It didn't fill him up. It never did. But regret worked and never left him empty. He would stare at the bottom of the empty glass and then take the bottle of Firewhiskey, pour the amber liquid and drink it slowly. The bones in his throat bobbing up and down against paper thin skin he wished he would slice and see the blue poison his heart pumped turn scarlet with sweet oxygen. He would throw his head back, close his eyes and drink till he was numb. And he liked the way it burned the insides of his throat with searing heat, almost purifying him, all the way down into the pit of his stomach. Sometimes when he was thinking of her, which was always, he would lay his head on the weathered wood counter and hold the now empty bottle tightly and then let go. Watching the imprints his fingers made on the glass disappear second after second, until they weren't there anymore. He wish he could do that with her.

Ginny kisses him fiercely, trying to forget the image of Sirius's face and the way he had kissed her. Even though it was only once, she liked the way it left her mouth tasting like a life pumping its fresh blood. He was so gentle and she could almost love him for that. So she told her husband she liked it rough, but she didn't really. Instead she closed her eyes tighter as she let him pound into her. But she forgot there was such a pretty picture of him etched on the back of her eyelids covered in salty tears.

It was over now, but he wouldn't take a sober up potion. He wanted to feel something other then the numbness in his bones and the way the emptiness filled him up and almost made him whole. For now, he would sit here, his shoulders hunched over blocking the light out. As his raven colored hair covers his emancipated face and sallow skin. The darkness strangles him and tells him of the sweetest regret, that it was he who let her go. His fault. Now, she is dead to him. This is all his black pupils can see, so he gets the Firewhiskey bottle out and a glass. Oh Ginerva, he is no longer the beautiful boy you once knew and could have loved. But he was never a boy to you. Just a man who wanted everything that was out of his reach, while his blood pumped the recklessness of freedom through his veins. But now, he is a breathing corpse. His almost girl, kissing a man she does not love trying to forget the man she used to. But look at your hero now Ginny. What a mockery, drowning himself in a bottle of Firewhiskey; the name which is the color of her hair. And dreaming of the girl he could of had.

But stay with him, the man you don't love, because this one; the one you want is drowning in his own regrets and never really love you either, he just had that moment with you because you are so much like that other girl who is laying deep in a grave. While he is drinking his. But, he still loves that girl, the one who gave those emerald eyes to her son. Her eyes, which are eating his mind away with remorse. Because sometimes, which is all the time, he sees her. Not you Ginny.