"Gin, hold up!"
The girl looked back at the young man running toward her. She stayed silent as he caught up, waiting for him to speak. He took a breath.
"Look. Ginny, I know- I know things are getting harder and more complicated each day but I don't want you to think what they said was true. I would-"
"Which part, exactly?" she bit back, "The part about you leaving me or the part about me being a diversion from your quest, eh? A temporary diversion," she smiled bitterly, "A whore."
"You can't believe that," he gasped, coming closer.
She looked up at him; her teary eyes blurring her vision, making him seem no more than a foggy shape above her, the raining icy blue sky fawning out around him. "I don't want to," she replied, honestly. "So you tell me. What do I mean to you?"
"You mean everything to me. What I have done or could do from the moment I kissed you after the Quidditch match until now would mean nothing if you weren't with me, if I didn't have you." He then turned his head, looking back at the window of the room he and Ginny had just come out of. There was a group of pale faces assembled there, but once they saw he was looking their way they scattered, leaving him to stare at the reflection of the trees on the weathered glass. When he looked back, Ginny was turned to the ground, like a wilting flower, tears coming freely now. She looked up as soon as she felt her gaze on him.
"I know. I'm sorry. I always knew. I'm just nervous." She wringed her hands, and he caught them in his.
"Don't you ever doubt me again." His words were commanding but his tone was soft, just as soft as the kiss he then placed on her shivering lips. She came closer to him, burrowing her face in the crook of his neck, placing her hand on his chest.
"Well, they were very persuasive," she smiled, fondling the small buttons on his shirt.
He grabbed her tighter.
"Ah, okay! I won't. I solemnly promise I shan't ever doubt you again, Mr. Potter."
He chuckled at her words, then brought her to him once again, one arm around her waist and one hand on the back of her head, playing with her hair. He heard her sigh in pleasure, enjoying the closeness, and he sighed back to, looking up at the sky ever-darkening sky. Not a sigh of pleasure, like hers, but a sigh tinged with remorse, regret, and fear.
For, you see, he knew that he loved her, probably more than anyone he had ever loved. He knew he did not ever want to leave her. But he also knew, in the back of his mind, that he should have never kissed her, and what they had was temporary. He had to leave her. As much as he wanted to shake off his classmate's words, and make her forget them also, they came back to him, clearer than before.
He knew he had to let her go at some point. He knew he couldn't take her with him, or endanger her in any way. The trouble was, he did not know when. One thing he was certain of was he did not want to face her when she would hear all the rumors coming true, in the form of his very own lips.