Title: Out of the Window
Pairing: D/G, one-shot
JKR owns Draco and Ginny, in case you were unaware. R&R, please.
In all honesty, Ginny Weasley never really did enjoy Transfiguration. In actual fact she found it dreadfully dull and extremely repetitive to the point at which she often thought of flinging herself out the nearest window. Today, a fine Tuesday in June, was no exception to this natural law. She stared at the nearest window (which happened to look out toward the Quidditch Pitch) with almost a look of longing. It seemed to call to her intermittently during McGonagall's long-winded lecture on transforming rabbits into tea cozies – "Ginevra!" it called temptingly. "Free yourself of this mundane world with a single leap!" As she continued to stare out that near-yet-so-far window, she suddenly and almost shockingly noticed that there was a lone figure high above the Pitch. From this particular distance and this specific angle she could only discern that it was a male individual with silver-blonde hair. Ginny only knew one boy who filled such a description, and surely enough when he turned around to face the Tower her suspicions were immediately confirmed.
Ginny watched him. His movements through the sunny sky were almost hypnotic – soothingly beautiful. Her eyes followed him as he arched through the air, looping around the nearest golden hoop. His school robes flapped madly behind him, billowing in the blustery wind. His loop transformed into a miraculous dive of incomprehensible speeds, straight toward the sandy ground below. Ginny sat up slightly in her seat so she could continue to watch him as he neared terra firma. McGonagall toiled on through her sermon but it was as if her voice came from another world, a mere buzz among a collection of louder and more compelling noises.
For a second or two he dived out of sight. She felt her heart drop slightly as if someone had changed the channel in the last five minutes of her favorite wireless program. Then, as if conjured up by Magic itself, he appeared directly in front of her window, her window of freedom. His hair, disrupted by the wind, flew almost poetically in several different directions. Ginny could never have been prepared enough for what happened next. He turned around unexpectedly on his broom and he faced her, the bright sun lighting up his face intensely. And in that moment, that weighted and engrossing moment, his eyes met hers. She was a deer in the headlights and a moth to the flame all at the same time. Her body willed her to move, her heart willed her to do anything at all. But she could not. Before she knew it, he had turned around skillfully, heading full-speed back out onto the Pitch before her scanning eyes. And as he flew away, growing smaller and smaller by the second, she half-wished he would have remained for one second more outside her window with his broom steadily beneath him.
She would have joined him in a heartbeat.