Enough
Disclaimer: If you'd be so silly,
To think that it's all mine,
I hope you'll soon be wiser,
I don't own a dime.
It's JK's as I hope you know,
I only own the plot,
And even that's not always there,
As I think you could spot.
And the summary mostly belongs to my beta-reader!
***
I remember it very well. Too well. Too bloody damn well.
I wish I could forget it. I really do. But then I know there'll be a big hole in my heart-wait, what the hell am I saying? I mean my memories. Of course I do, I mean there'll be a big hole in my memories. He has nothing whatsoever to do with my heart.
At least, I hope so-I hope not. I hope not. Or I hope so? Whichever it is, he has nothing to do with my heart. I hope.
I really do.
If I close my eyes-and I do-I can still picture myself standing there. I knew my eyes must have been blazing, as they sometimes did. The same way Ron's eyes blazed as he quarreled with Hermione. The same look in Mum's eyes when she scolded Dad for another of his Muggle collections. The same way...
It was a fiery look, an angry look. But there was a touch of... A touch of...
No. I promised I wouldn't mention the 'L' word, and so I won't. I won't, because I know what'll happen if I do.
I was glaring at him, with 'The Look', and he was sneering at me, with 'His Sneer'. That patented, copyrighted sneer of his. The one I had so often seen him shoot in Harry's direction when he thought no one was looking. Or even if someone was looking.
I was looking. I'm always looking. But only at him.
And so I said something. And he said something. What it was, what either of us said, I can't quite recall. He was sneering and drawling, and I was blazing and screaming, but I can't quite place the words that were spoken.
I do know he was insulting, so I must have insulted him back. And he was angry. So angry. And I was too. We were throwing insults back and forth, like it was a bouncing ball.
Then I said something particularly bad. I know I felt bad when the remark hit him, and I had no clue how I could have said that.
Before I could process anything, his pale hand rose and hit my cheek. I remember how my cheek stung. He must have thought it was too little punishment, because he did something else.
His kissed me.
And, hell, it was a kiss. Fumbles with Neville and blushes with Colin, heck, how they paled in comparison. I think he's tainted me for any other's kiss now. Maybe that was what he was aiming for. I wouldn't know.
Words wouldn't do justice to what it felt like. I can't even begin to describe how I felt then, so I won't even try.
Then he stalked off, and I was left behind, lips still tingling from the tension of it all.
It was so long ago. Six months. Six long, dragging, months of remembering what went on. And nothing. He hasn't shown one sign of remembering what happened.
Damn him.
It was Harry, Ron and Hermione's graduation today. They'll be leaving Hogwarts, and I'll be alone. Not that I ever was part of them anyway. They'll be leaving, and so he'll be leaving.
And I'll never again have the chance to demand an explanation. I might never see him again.
Oh, hell.
Wait. He's coming. He's coming towards me, in my direction. I'm sure my heart is stopping. I can quite literally feel it ceasing to beat with anxiety. Oh god, oh god.
I tell myself to calm down. He'll walk past me, like he has a thousand times before.
Except this time it's different.
He's stopping... No, he isn't. He's not stopping. I feel tears pricking my eyelids.
But I won't cry. I promised not to the same way I promised not to mention the 'L' word, and I promised for the same reason. 'The Reason.'
I close my eyes, hoping that perhaps not seeing him will help ease the pain. But it's still there. It, perhaps, hurts even more. So I imagine him, conjure up a picture of him in my mind's eye, like I have so many times before.
I first see his hair. His hair as the sunlight streams in and hits it, making it glint and shine in the sun. His silvery-blond hair.
I see his face, now. The sharp features he must have inherited from his father. But they look so much better on him. So much softer.
I see his eyes. The gray eyes, so cold, but so warm as he kissed me. The guarded eyes of his, no doubt carrying a secret that weighed heavily upon him. I could see it, though. I saw it then.
How I wanted to hold him. My arms ached to go around him, to hold him in spite of everything else.
I can't stand it anymore. I can't. Seeing him, even if it wasn't really him, tore my heart apart. Seeing him as I could never have him.
So I snap open my eyes. And they meet with his.
His?
His!
His...
I pull my eyes from his and look at the rest of him. His face. His lips. His smile.
His smile. He doesn't smile. But he is.
And for me.
"Ginny..." he whispers, throatily.
"Draco..." I whisper back.
I know what he was meant to say. I know what was meant to happen. I had every second planned out carefully, as I had planned it so many times lying in bed, trying to fall asleep.
But the look on his eyes, my hands clasped in his...
That was enough for me now.
Then he kissed me.
And it was so much more.
***
A/N: I'm planning to do a companion piece to this, in Draco's POV. When I find the time, that is. And I'm feeling poetic today (notice the Disclaimer?) so...
Would you be so kind,
To offer me your time,
Just a sec or two,
If only to say 'Moo'
Press the little button,
(Nothing rhymes but glutton)
Write a little letter,
Tell me to get better,
Since you've had a sit,
The poem must be worth it?
Make me oh so happy,
Review and I'll get sappy.