Story Title: A Burn of Surrealism

Author: Hawk Martin

Disclaimer: Don't own HP, Ginny, or Draco.  But I do own you.

Dedication: To coffee.  How I love thee.

A/N: This is just another bit of drabble-like vignette-y goodness.  It's Draco/Ginny, when they're still in school.  Have fun.

Summary: She will steal his heart and soon, all he'll be left with is a bloody chest.

Notes: Italics symbolize important ideas; emphasis; and the beginning, middle, and end.  Bold/italics symbolize the key to the story.

Rating: PG.

Warning: The Freshman will begin to drive you insane, in a good way.

Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking.
It is not easily angered; it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.
Bible
I Corinthians 13:4-8

The love they have for each other is rather pathetic and surreal and if he closes his eyes for long enough, he's pretty sure this is what Hell looks like.  He plays with fire, twirling her scarlet hair between his fingers; almost wishing that they'll leave a burn.  Her body feels just right and she moves just so and sometimes he could swear that she's the Devil and he just lost his soul.

If the world was perfect, he wouldn't have to scoff at her at dinner or roll his eyes when she rambled on in the dark about Shakespearean love.  If the world was perfect they could run away together and this would mean more and this world mean more and he could even be honest for a change.  But the world isn't perfect and their love doesn't exist on a real plane of existence.  And so the scoffing shall continue and secrecy will remain and she'll simply have to realize his love for her without words.

Because he does love her, with all of his heart, and if it's beating for her, he prays she won't steal it.  This isn't Shakespeare, and there's no happy ending.  She will steal his heart and soon, all he'll be left with is a bloody chest.  Draco knows that; knows that indubitably with Ginny in his arms, red against white—blood against purity.

Their love is still too surreal for the world, and the world is still too real for them.