Disclaimer: I own nothingness.
This is just a bit of a random thought that popped into my head and I had to throw down somewhere
Lightning flashed across the night sky. Like jagged lines reaching down toward the Earth. Or up, actually, as Hermione had told her. Thunder rolled in the distance, and Ginny took a seat in her window, sketchbook, quill, and wand in hand. She sighed as another bolt ripped through, and she jumped a bit when the thunder snapped.
Ginny pulled her knees up, and rested the book against her lap, staring out at the sky. At the next strike, a small, delicate hand with barely noticable freckles began moving softly on the page. Flaming hair spilled over the girl's shoulder, as she tapped a mess up with her wand to erase it, and redrew that portion. Chocolate brown eyes lit up as they flitted to the window for a strike. White teeth bit back a pink with a long breath out of a freckled nose.
Lightning reminded her of Harry. Well for one obvious reason. It was also so unruly, so free. It went where it wanted how it wanted. It was like his newly found freedom. Ginny barely noticed how her hand had started to sketch his face on the parchment. She just…drew him. The perfect way his eyebrows melted into his nose, and as it sloped down and drew to his lips, thin but soft and warm. Her quill sketched down his shoulders. His hair was the hardest. She knew this from having drawn him before.
Ginny's thin pointer finger traced the drawing when the ink dried. Touched it as she used to his real face, as she longed to touch his face now. Feeling a bit creepy, she set the pad down in front of her very gently. Heaving a loud, shaky sigh, she hopped up and stretched. Perhaps she would have some milk and cookies before she went to bed.
The hallway was dark as she crept out of her room silently, and into the slightly moonlit space. Ginny made her way down the stairs, past snoozing family portraits, and leaped off the third setep, over Ron's huge shoes, and landed on her feet in a feline manner, before tiptoeing across the sitting room. The moonlight hit her hair, making it very pale, and not it's usual vibrant ginger, and washed out her delicately pale skin. It was so empty, it almost felt abandoned. Shivering a little at the desolate feel, she pressed on, and entered the kitchen, where the small fire her mother usually left on was burning. It was warmer in there.
After getting some of her mum's homemade cookies, and a glass of milk, Ginny sat down at the table and stared at the cookies on her plate. Fred and George had taught her to do this when she was a little girl. The cookies she had in front of her were Fred's favourite. Her gut wrenched, and she shoved some into her mouth. Wherever Fred was, he could now have all the chocolate chip cookies he could ever want, she was sure of it. She forced herself to move her thoughts when she could practically feel the pain of it in her heart.
Her thoughts flitted through school, summer, how she'd actually gotten to go shopping the other day with some of her friends. Window-shopping, as they were all broke teenagers, but it was still fun. They'd looked at all the shops, had supper and ice cream, and made a last minute decision to stop in a small community theatre for a show. She had gotten into trouble for being late, but that was ok.
Finishing her cookies and milk, the young ginger girl lifted herself up, and crossed the room to leave her dishes in the sink. Mum would flip when she saw that there were already dishes to do that early, but Ginny wouldn't be up anyway. So that was all right. After retracing her silent steps up to her room, she changed into night shorts and a tshirt, and crawled under the covers. Warm brown eyes drooped and began to shut as the exhausted girl let out a sigh, and snuggled under her covers, falling asleep almost instantly into an untroubled slumber.