Author's Note: This is just an imagination of mine. The characters and the places are J.K.Rowling's.
Faithful
For the first time in living memory, he realized it wasn't worth it.
The Slytherin Common Room was colder than usual at evenings, especially now that Christmas is coming. The fact that it's a dungeon, the gravel tiles, the chain-hanged lamps, and black sofas, just makes its atmosphere worse, making the whole room really cold and creepy.
Almost everyone went home to celebrate the Yule season with their families. It was one o'clock in the morning, and one person was left all alone inside the dungeon due to many thoughts and confusion. The silver-eyed blonde boy was sitting in front of the fire place; it was very silent, and all that sounds was the crackling flame, glowing upon Draco Malfoy's pale pointed face.
He has been gloomy for days for some reasons. Questions filled his mind as he thought of all the things he's been doing all his life. For instance, why he has to boss around people; why he obeys the things his scum father tells him, knowing it will not do him anything good; why he has to fight the innocent Harry Potter and the rest of the Gryffindors, knowing they aren't doing anything that would make his life totally miserable; why he give service to the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, when it's already in everyone's senses that they do nothing good; why he has the deep desire to kill blood-traitors and Muggle-borns—so what if he's Pureblood anyway? He realized, all of a sudden, that these things don't make any sense at all.
He felt something warm sliding down his cheek. Tears. How on earth could he possibly crying like this? It has been centuries since he felt this kind of emotion… since he felt sensitivity and warmth.
Draco stared at the crackling fire in front of him, red and yellow spots reflecting on his silver pupils. A genial smile carved his face: He just can't help loving this… the flame. It reminds him of a certain girl with the same fiery red hair; the only one he knew has the power to make his life way too far from misery…
She never lost faith…
She spares every night just to stare at the dark-purple sky. The silver moon. Its light streamed upon her freckled face, reflecting its beauty on her ocean blue eyes.
Ginny Weasley sat by the window, all alone inside the Gryffindor's girl dormitories. She's happy… she has always been. Even though the war is getting worse, she's still glad having friends like the golden trio, having successful brothers, and most of all, having such a loving and caring family. Many things have made her life easier and better, but then, something conquered her mind.
She doesn't know why; why she never took away her faith to those who worked for the Dark Arts, especially the Death Eaters, the fact she has family and friends who were purely fighting against them, can't help but mention her lifetime crush Harry Potter, who would someday, either be killed or defeat Voldemort. Of course she wouldn't tell them that; Ginny can now see what her violent brothers would do to her if she did.
She simply believe that someday, they'll change; someday, they'll know the true meaning of peace; someday, they'll turn their backs to the Dark Lord; someday, they would stop killing people; or someday, maybe, the certain person that has eyes just like the moon and hair just like the sunset will truly love her.
She grinned by this thought. Perhaps that's why she loves seeing the moon… its shining silver color just reminds her of his eyes. The eyes she always dreamt would stream upon her instead… However, still, a war goes on inside her head.
I love him.
He's the enemy, you silly girl.
But I still love Draco Malfoy!
Yes, I am the enemy, Draco thought. Another tear slid down his pale pointed face. It's absolutely unrequited: He's the evil one; he's the antagonist; she doesn't love him. He knew she don't deserve a man like him.
But perhaps… someday… he will express his love to Ginevra Weasley, no matter what.
Sometimes, happy endings are just not meant to be—or maybe.
Author's Note: Feel free to leave comments. Again, this is just an imagination; if it's bad -- well, just stick with it. You've got the freedom to tell me if this shall remain a one-shot or not. I really need your word.
Thanks a lot for reading my story, faithful reader.
