Disclaimer: Yes, yes. The characters are not mine. And this story is not yours.
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He watches her everyday. Every where she goes, every slight movement, every time she moves. When she blushes her freckles look like golden speckles on her deep plum cheeks. Her skin is so pale that he can see the thin weaving of violet and green veins as clearly as if her flesh were tissue paper.

She wears a thin strand of amber beads around her too thin neck, marked and bruised by him. She twists the beads in her hand and chews on her lip until it bleeds, the drops that trail down her chin are nearly as scarlet as the curling strands of hair that rest on her shoulders. He gave it to her, on her birthday. He was always the best.

One day, the necklace broke as she walked down the hall, her thin hand clasped in his equally pale one. She twisted it too roughly when he leant over to kiss her, just a bit too roughly. She twisted it, and the strands broke, scattering the small amber beads across the cold stone floor. Cursing, she searched the floor wildly, gathering as many of the glinting golden beads as she could before the tears finally over flowed he lashes. He laughed at her, telling her she was silly, that he could buy her another. She tried to laugh as he kissed her again, and her fingernails clawed at her neck, grasping for the missing beads.

Colin watches it all. He sees her with him, watches her nails rasp against the skin of her neck, leaving deep scratches on her pale throat. He's practically choking her with his kisses, Colin thinks. As they walk away, he notices a bead that has fallen between the cracks in the stones. Picking it up, Colin idly sniffs it, wondering if it has captured her scent. He keeps the bead in his pocket for days, letting his fingers roam over the smooth curves. The bead is always warm to the touch.

After a while Colin approaches her where she sits in the library, frowning over her arithmancy homework. She smiles at him, a deep v-shaped scarlet grin that splits her face and makes her grey eyes glint and sparkle.

He holds the bead in his palm to her, trembling slightly. I...I found...this, by McGonagall's classroom. She takes it, fingering the curves slightly, smiling.

Thank you. She gathers her quills and her parchment, and her books, and stands to leave.

She turns to him again, arching an eyebrow. Ginny...why was Draco better than me? Why couldn't I have been it? His words come out in a thick rush.

Ginny looks sad. she smiles at him. It is not the same smile as before, this one is smaller, more forced. Colin. I was never good enough for you. She looks at him, then down at the carpet of the library. It was my fault you were nearly killed, you, and Hermione, and Penelope. I let Tom Riddle out. I let him go, and he nearly killed you, and I let him...touch me. I couldn't be right for you. Draco is already so wrong. I can't ruin him anymore. Ginny smiles at him again, the small, sad smile. "Here. She presses the bead into his palm.

Colin keeps the bead in his pocket, everyday. He runs his fingers over it's curves. The bead is small and golden amber, with a black mark on one end. It glows by candlelight, as though it were a coal burning with fire. The bead never leaves his pocket. It is always warm to the touch.