A/N: This is my first attempt at a drabble, so I'm not sure how it's going to turn out. But, I figured since I have trouble writing a continuous, multi-chapter story, a detached one like this would come much easier. I hope you enjoy(:
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling, I am not. Therefore, these characters are not mine.
She sits alone on the shore, the water flowing over her toes ever so often. Her knees are pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them, as though she were holding herself together.
A strong gust of wind picks up her long, auburn curls, causing her to shiver ever so slightly. Her teeth chatter as she tugs on the sleeves of her robes, trying to cover as much skin as possible to block away the incessant cold.
He sees her, but doesn't know if it's safe to approach or not. It looks as though she's crying, and he doesn't handle tears very well. Then again, he's never handled her well, either.
So, he closes the distance between them. He takes the few short strides necessary before he's standing beside her, looking down at her with an impassive expression.
He leans down so that he's sitting, their shoulders barely brushing against each other. Now that he's closer, he can see that she is crying, but silently. The stream of tears down her face is thick, and the flow doesn't stop, but he's never found her more beautiful.
"My dad died," she whispers, her voice, rough from disuse, cracking slightly.
"Oh," he whispers back, turning away from her.
He's not sure what else to say, so they sit there in silence. She doesn't tell him to leave, and he's glad, because even though they're not saying anything and she's miserable, he can't help but feel as though this is the tip of the iceberg for them. From here, they will either take the last step and jump, or take two hurried ones back.
And as she leans her head against his shoulder, he's pretty confident that they're going to fly.
A/N: I hope you liked it. (: I plan to update daily, as long as I get enough positive feedback. Help me out? :D