Disclaimer: I own (not won, as previously... haha) nothing. All lyrics belong to the Counting Crows (along with the title). Everything else belongs to JKR.

A Murder of One

Blue morning, blue morning,

Wrapped in strands of fist and bone

Curiosity, kitten,

Doesn't mean you're on your own.

His hair is splayed out in every direction on the pillow beside you. It is longer than it had ever been while you'd been in school together. Not that you'd noticed that then. He'd never let it be this disheveled in his waking hours even though you told him you liked it messy. He would smile doubtfully at you when you'd say this and you would grin and run your fingers through it. But it would never last, every strand falling carefully into place. Your smile always wilted with it, but he never noticed. Or he pretended not to, you could never be sure.

The light that streams in through the window is tinted blue from the curtains and throws shadows across his face. His hair, pale and soft, looks natural and clean against the stark white of the pillow. He rolls over as you watch him and his arms wrap around you, thin but strong. You let him pull you close, your hands wrapped around his. Such thin fingers he has, and such pale skin. You wonder what it would feel like to have strong, darker arms wrapped around you like this. You wonder if you would be able to feel the bones in someone else's hands as the hold you. You wonder about a lot of things while he sleeps and you close your eyes or look the other way from him.

You have a lot of blue mornings. You almost always wake up before him in the silent room. You wonder if that means something. Probably not. He doesn't make a sound while he sleeps except for quiet breathing. You wonder if you could sleep if he snored. Maybe you wouldn't feel so alone in the middle of the night or so empty in the morning. Sometimes it's like he's not there at all.

Eventually, he wakes beside you. He smiles thinly and you do the same. You wonder if your own skin is as pale as his. You have more freckles, he has none, and they stand out on your skin in the morning light. He kisses you good morning and you reach a hand up to his hair. He grasps it before it gets there and holds it. You pull away. He rolls out of bed and a few minutes later you hear the shower running. You get out of bed and walk to the window, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly.

You can look outside your window.

He doesn't have to know.

We can talk awhile, baby.

We can take it nice and slow.

While you're alone, you think of the last time you were happy, because you know you're not happy now. You fantasize of secret meetings and passionate kisses and the thrill of a secret romance with an old flame. You almost feel alive as you gaze out a world you no longer feel a part of and dream of a man that wanted you once.

In your mind, you meet with this man secretly and he gives you flowers that aren't in the house because if Draco saw them, he'd be suspicious. He wraps his arms around you and they're strong and warm and when you lean into him you can hear his heart beating in his chest and revel in the fact that he's alive. He lifts your chin and kisses you and you kiss him back and the two of you lose yourselves in each other. And he whispers that he loves you and his breath is warm in your ear.

You talk about things that you never do with Draco. You tell him all your secrets. And he listens and then tells you again of your plans to run away together. You've been planning this for a while, but just talking about it is enough to get you by. Having something to hope for is enough for now. You stare out the window, and you hope that someday you'll run away from here. But for now, you know that all you have is inside the walls that have come to feel like a prison with a man who never tells you that he wants you but he kisses you like he does and you believe him.

All your life is such a shame, shame, shame.

All your love is just a dream, dream, dream.

You wonder if it had all been a dream, those days from years ago that seemed all sunshine and kisses. It was the spring, a few weeks in spring when you had everything you'd ever dreamed of and it felt like a wonderful fantasy. But it had been real, hadn't it? Those days with… with Harry. It was hard to remember now, hard to be sure it had happened at all.

You wrap your arms tighter around yourself, trying to feel warm, trying to feel your breathing, your heartbeat. The window fogs with your breath on it and the world behind it clouds over in swirls of gray.

Behind you in the bathroom the sound of running water ceases and you pull yourself back into the reality you've chosen. Another day to live walking the path you chose. It's been so long, you're afraid to step off the path. Another day, another night, and another day.

Another night.

Are you happy where you're sleeping?

Does he keep you safe and warm?

You lie awake with his still form beside you. There's a steady rise and fall in his chest and his eyelids flicker as he dreams. You wonder what he dreams about. Does he dream about you? Do you dream about him? Sometimes you can't remember. Sometimes you think you dream about Harry. And sometimes you think Harry was only ever a dream and so why dwell on it. You're lucky to have Draco, after all.

You roll over and rest your cheek on your hand. A deep sigh runs through you and you feel your eyelids drooping down, but just as you're dozing, a cool draft runs over you from the open window and you shiver awake. You shift closer to Draco and huddle against him for warmth. You put an arm over him and hug him to you and you put your head on his shoulder.

Do you feel better? You can't tell.

But you fall asleep and so it must help, having him there.

You sleep late too. And in the morning, it's hard to get out of bed. You sleep late to pass the time and because you're tired all the time. And you lay in bed and stare at the ceiling because it seems that stare is all you do anyway.

The days drag by and at the same time they blur together. You go with Draco on business excursions for no other reason but to get out of the house. But you still feel caged as the two of you walk, as if you're on display even though no one pays you any mind but a passing glance. You feel as if they're staring, pointing, whispering. You're used to people staring though and you pretend it doesn't bother you. You don't look at the faces around you and still, even out in the fresh air, you feel cut off from the world to which, surely, you belonged to at some point.

A face passes that does catch your eye though. Something, someone, you never expected to see. Someone who lived only in your imagination and couldn't possibly be walking, breathing, coming right toward you. You and Draco are walking through Diagon Alley, on your way to Gringotts with business of course, and the street is brimming over with happy shoppers without faces. But a scruffy head passes you and you can't help yourself saying something after he's out of earshot.

"Draco, did just see—"

"I didn't see anything." He cuts you off without turning to look, sounding entirely unconcerned, but you stop and turn and peer through the crowd. Your arm slips out of his and only when you lose contact does he pay attention.

"What is it?"

"I thought I just saw—"

"You didn't see anything, kitten." He cuts you off again, but his voice is calm and strong, not angry or annoyed. It strikes you that he never calls you by name. Ginny, you say to yourself, afraid that one day you'll forget in its absence. He holds out his arm for you and you drag your eyes away from the mop of black hair lingering by Quality Quidditch Supplies and continue on your way, wondering if he saw you. You're afraid that he did, afraid that he's disappointed, afraid that he didn't feel anything at all, afraid that he wouldn't recognize you.

You take Draco's arm, staying silent as you walk. He thinks you're sorry for holding him up. He assumes you're apologizing.

"No worries, kitten. We won't be late."

Does he tell you when you're sorry?

Does he tell you when you're wrong?

You sit in the lobby and you gaze out the tall, glass windows at the street below. You pretend you're on the other side, talking, laughing. You pretend you're with him, with Harry. You pretend you've strayed from Draco's watchful eye, that you've stolen away to meet with Harry. You picture the delighted look on Harry's face as he sees you coming. He looks you in the eye and he tells you he's taking you away, that he was waiting for you to come.

"Ginny," he says and you close your eyes as his voice washes over you. He says your name with a caress in his voice and you practically swoon into him. He speaks to you and it sounds like beautiful poetry.

"I've been watching you for hours.

It's been years since we were born.

We were perfect when we started.

I've been wondering where we've gone."

You close your eyes as you sit in the lobby, trying to recall the way his face looked when he smiled, the way his eyes lit up when he laughed. Draco doesn't laugh much and it often sounds cold when he does. You don't laugh much either these days.

"We were perfect when we started," you whisper to yourself. You lean your head against the wall and close your eyes, tired. That was always the case it seemed. It had been with Harry. Those bright, spring days before everything had fallen to pieces. He wanted you and you wanted him and you had each other and it was all either of you needed. It was enough to have him hold you and it was enough to have your head rest against his chest.

And then he left and he did his best to keep you safe and he told you later about how often he'd thought about you and missed you while you'd been apart. And you told him that you'd missed him too. But you had been apart and you both had changed. But he still wanted you, and you still loved him and you thought it would be enough. When you found that it wasn't, it broke your heart. You cried forever.

And when you wok up, he found you, Draco did. And it had been perfect with him too. Your family didn't understand, and you didn't really understand yourself, but it hadn't seemed to matter then. It mattered to you now, and you remember now that even though you'd been happy, you still hated the way that Harry had looked at you. You don't know how it had happened, but you remember being happy, if for only the briefest moment. Was it worth it? Was that always the way? You find happiness only to lose it again? Was your love just a slowly passing dream?

Where were you now?

Draco walks you home and you don't see Harry anywhere. Not that you were looking.

All your life is such a shame, shame, shame.

All your love is just a dream, dream, dream.

You have strange dreams sometimes. You wonder if they mean something before you remind yourself that you never bought any of that divination crap. But sometimes you think, if only for a moment that maybe there's something to dreams.

I dreamt I saw you walking up a hillside in the snow,

Casting shadows on the winter sky as you stood there counting crows.

One for sorrow.

You stand alone and weep.

Two for joy.

He stands beside you and want to be part of him.

Three for girls.

The only girl in generations, you were.

Four for boys.

Enough brothers to last a lifetime. Only ever two loves.

Five for silver.

Second place with silver hair.

Six for gold.

Go, go, Gryffindor.

Seven for a secret never to be told.

You love him, you do.

Which one?

There's a bird that nests inside you,

Sleeping underneath your skin.

When you open up your wings to speak,

I wish you'd let me in.

But caged birds never sing and you never spread your wings.

You've forgotten how without any room to fly.

As you sit inside your cage of many rooms filled with tapestries and drafty hallways, you think you'd like to break free breathe in cool air as you sour through the sky. You think that must be the best feeling in the world. You think you must have known it once. But here, in this place, it doesn't suit you.

You wonder how you liked it once. Because you had, and you don't know why now.

You know you used to be vibrant and alive but you don't feel that way anymore. You wonder what Harry would think of you now. Would he still want you, now that your flame's gone out? It wouldn't suit him any better than it would you and you feel that you don't deserve him anymore. But you feel lost without him, like he was your fuel and you can't stay lit without him. You feel smothered, like softly burning embers clinging to the flame they used to be. You simmer quietly where you sit as the sun sets outside your window and the light in the room dims gradually.

You hear the door open and don't look over.

"Beautiful sunset," you say when he walks into the room.

"Is it?" he asks unconcernedly without looking. You turn to watch him as he sits on the bed and unties his shoes. They're shiny and black, not a scratch on them. It occurs to you that Draco never spreads his wings either, only he doesn't seem to mind.

"It is," you say firmly and he looks up with an eyebrow raised at your tone. You stare him down and he turns to look out the window. He stares for a moment and the orange light reflects in his pale eyes. They look as though they're on fire and you remember a time when you would think that when he looked at you. But then he turns away from the window and the light goes out.

"It is," he agrees, "a nice sunset." He speaks as if it's below him to argue about anything so trivial.

"Worth noticing," you insist, trying to pick a fight, hoping his eyes will light up again. He doesn't rise to the bait though and you sigh tiredly. As the light in the room dims, things become clear to you.

Open up your eyes.

You can see the flames, flames, flames of your wasted life.

You should be ashamed.

You don't want to waste your life, baby.

But for now, you stare out your window and pretend you live another life, a life you could have had. You pretend you're happy, out in the open air where you can see the sun all the better, along with its warmth on your pale, sheltered skin. Soft fingers running through your hair, warm breath in your ear.

You picture Harry beside you, alive and passionate and in love with you like new. He calls your name.

You stand and press your hand to the window and it's cold beneath your skin.

I walk along these hillsides in the summer 'neath the sunshine.

I am feathered by the moonlight falling down on me.

You dream of change. You dream of Harry. You dream of a life you don't have in a world with beautiful sunsets and fiery eyes.

"Come to bed, kitten," Draco says.

Change, change, change.f

Okay, want to let me know what you thought? I've never written anything remotely D/G (even if this does have some H/G tendencies...). I'm curious how it comes across. I've also never written anything in the second person before so... yeah, comments are more than welcome! And strangely, I love Ginny, but I think maybe the opposite sort of comes through in this. Anyway, please review! It might help me figure out what I think of this...