Disclaimer:Don't own Ginny or Draco.
Notes: Dream or not? You tell me.
Snowflakes swirled around her gently, touching on her hair, landing softly atop the tangled masses, melting against her cool pale skin, falling on her dark eyelashes. The trees were covered in it, the ground layered in the soft blanket, soft and cold and beautiful and deadly. Just like him.
She was shivering, but she hardly noticed it. Her skin was pale anyway, and when a snowflake landed on her arm and didn't melt, she barely noticed. Her eyes were listless, devoid of all life, staring out at the swirling snow and not even seeing it. Her mind was strangely empty, as well, and moment by moment, she walked back an inch at a time, not physically but in her mind, in her memory, and he was there, a hairsbreadth away from her...
It was cold. Snow tumbled around her, faster and faster, lighting on her hair and eyes, a swirling blizzard in front of her as her thoughts grew colder. She was a statue, a pale marble statue standing completely still in the chaos around her, winds pulling and pushing at her, her hair flying about her like fire, but her eyes were dead. The blood running through her veins was ice in her, and there was no heat.
If only this weren't real. If only it were another bad dream, she would wake, screaming, in the dorm room, and they would comfort her with false words, never knowing what she felt, never caring, and she would curl up in her bed. But the sheets would give her no warmth. Not when her own skin was as cold as ice.
How could it be this cold? The snow falling around her seemed to dance, a vicious, angry dance, mocking her, laughing at her, pulling her forward while she stood breathlessly still, watching them; it was dazzling,dizzying, so pure and laughing and mocking and angry and unlike her.
There is evil, Virginia.
His voice, mocking her, pulling her through this, his breath on her neck, his eyes staring into hers, cold and painful. Her eyes were blank, and she had no self-will to fight off the memories that crawled in her mind, sneaking and slipping, skirting through the shadows and hiding away whatever shred of anything she had ever had. His voice, cold and silky and sarcastic, making her shiver, his eyes staring down at her with that dark stare, not quite unable to hide the flickering behind them--had he really stared at her like that or was it just a dream? Dreams and reality merged around her until she couldn't get his image out of her mind, couldn't tell the reality from the dreams, and he was holding her in his embrace, cold as....
The snow was faster now, lighting upon her skin and clothes. The hem of her nightgown was buried in the snow, her feet white and almost blue. Cold seeped into every aspect of her body, and she felt it but couldn't look away from the nothingness she was staring at--and it didn't matter, did it?
Because after a while, you didn't feel anything at all....
"Weasley," someone was shouting at her, and she wanted to look away, but it didn't work. Her mind ran wild and she couldn't control it, couldn't control her uncontrollable shivering and couldn't control her eyes, staring into the great nothingness. It was madness, all of it...
"Are you mad?!" someone was shouting, and she stared ahead. Someone grabbed her arm, whirled her around, and she let herself be handled, like a porcelain doll, immobile, and wasn't she? She couldn't see who it was, the snow rushing to fill her vision and her eyelashes with a curtain.
She felt something hit her face, hard, leaving a red mark, and her head jolted around as she stepped backwards, blinking, a hand still on her arm keeping her balanced. "Weasley!" someone shouted,and she turned around, staring at Draco Malfoy.
Her breath caught. "Not this time," she shouted, and ripped her arm away from his, stepping backwards, feeling the cold for the first time as anger warmed her stomach. "I will not fall for it this time! You're not real!" she shouted at him, and the confusion on his face seemed too real. "You're always there," she screamed, and she was screaming at her dreams, at the thoughts in her head, trying to grab them, trying to dive into the uncontrollable mess and control them. "Every time I close my eyes, you're there, always mocking me and telling me you love me before you spit on me and hit me. And I never stand up to you. Never. Well, not this time!"
She was shaking, she realized, not just shivering but her whole body shuddering violently, anger the only thing keeping her voice steady. She closed her eyes briefly, feeling the hot tears, making them feed her anger. "Go away!" she shouted, and opened her eyes, knowing he wouldn't be there.
Just like always.
Snow danced around her silently, softly, and there was complete and utter silence. For the first time in years, her mind was totally silent, the whirling hurricane of her thoughts suddenly a still pool. A sheet of ice, she thought, or is it the eye of the hurricane?
"You're cold," he said quietly.
She stared at him, her eyes wide. "Don't do this to me," she said, and her voice was a whisper, pleading with him. "Not this time."
She was light as a feather in his arms, cold as ice, and he stared down at her, her eyes closed as she curled against him. Ginny Weasley opened her eyes, staring up at him, and she didn't care if it was a dream or not. Giving herself up, she curled closer to him, knowing that when she woke up, he wouldn't be there.
But right now, she didn't care.