Hues of Sword and Fire
Pairing: Draco/Ginny, some Harry/Ginny
Summary: For in the end, he was the sword and he the fire.
Written for rowan-greenleaf.
violescent
1. The color of his robes that night
It was dark, the corridor only dimly light by the moonlight streaming through the open door at the end.
She could not hear anything-not the barely perceptible hum of magic, the chirp of crickets, or the sound of her own heartbeat.
Something wasn't right.
Terrible.
Wrong.
She stepped forward, her pace increasing as she moved. The corridor spun around her, changing in width and depth and height as she continued onward.
Her head felt light and almost empty.
She stumbled and nearly fell.
Was she drunk? She couldn't remember drinking.
It seemed like ages before she finally reached the end.
He stood just outside, framed by the light of the moon.
His robes were dark-not quite black. Almost purple?
2. the color of the sky that night
Silent. It was still so eerily silent.
The wind blew through the trees but not a sound came.
If she shouted, would her voice echo or simply die with everything else?
He turned around abruptly.
Surprise, but only for an instant.
and then
nothing.
His eyes were not soft as they looked at her, nor hard like steel. He was tempering his physical emotions, keeping everything in check. She softened him, but never enough to make him soft.
As if he were a sword and she the fire. He could not reach that balance without her, could he?
"Draco." Her voice sounded like a deafening shriek, cutting through the silence.
The corner of his mouth lifted just slightly.
The sight of him there, framed by the dark violet of the night sky?
3. the color on his hands that night
"Ginny."
Sound returned to the world with his reply.
Her head still buzzed and the world still seemed to spin beneath her, but sound returned with his voice.
"Did. . . did you do it?"
"I. . . couldn't. Snape did it for me," he answered.
[The sharpness in his tone, the resignation in his shoulders.]
She watched him for several long minutes, just taking him in. Absorbing him.
As if she never would again.
"Stay with him, Ginny. He can protect you-"
"But Draco-"
"I have enough blood on my hands."
She tried not to cry, stepping forward and taking his hands in her own.
They were covered in blood-half dried and dark. In the night, it looked violet instead of red. The blood was under his fingernails and still wet on his fingertips. He'd held his hands so tightly fisted that he drew his own blood.
"Draco, I don't want to lose you."
He pulled his hands back and left her there.
She stood there for several minutes, staring at his purple blood on her hands.
And then she too, left.
A/N:
This was inspired by the January 3rd, 2012's Word of the Day on dictionary. com.
violescent
Thursday January 3, 2013
1. Tending to a violet color: a violescent twilight sky.