Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me; all I do is play with the characters.

Note: This drabble didn't pass through a Beta. Beware.


Home

Eyes closed she hears the storm, the sound of raindrops against the large bedroom window and the thunders echoing in the distance. Shoving away the sheets she gets up because it has become tradition.

She remembers that when a rainstorm was heard at home everyone would snuggle in the big bed and into the safety of the stories daddy would tell and the warm milk and cookies mummy would bring. No one was ever scared. She used to love the way lighting struck trough angry clouds, now, she hates them.

They make her remember. Remember how she is alone in the dark bedroom because she is too proud and scared to go back home. The hostile walls around her were never home. Even when they had both painted them with laughter and games, battles of wit and passionate arguments they never had the taste of fresh recently baked warm bread and coffee.

It doesn't make sense but neither does she. Once upon a time she desperately needed adventure and a future but now she just wants home.

She remembers the reason she left and sadness grips her heart and makes her throat sore, but the tears don't come anymore. The memory of her dreams to build a life with a man who enchanted her for laughing at the face of death, sneering at doom and chuckling at catastrophe suffocate her. A man who made her fall hopelessly in love and abandon home, dreaming of creating a new one with him, cutting all ties and feeling bad for regretting that every second.

The cold wind against her skin makes her notice she has left the manor. Again. A couple of people look her way, sparing curious and sometimes scared glances at her: the delusional woman with a haunted face and cadaverous appearance who creeps the roads every night towards the hills.

At first they used to follow her, try and help her, but they soon gave up as any touch from the people she shamefully regarded as commoners made her scream and attract attention.

Sometimes, amongst the circle formed around her, she would find a pair of bright blue eyes or flaming red hair that matched hers. But they would never come; they never understood she was looking for them. They never understood she just wanted home.

She wanted the house with the room in the left corner that once belonged to her where she dreamt of marrying the coal coloured hair boy back in the time the blood you were born with didn't matter to her. Before she started hating Muggles and their inventions. Before she knew, fell in love and lost Draco.

She tugs her robe around her, now soaking wet, and apparates back finding Narcissa with compassionate eyes and a cup of tea awaiting he. As usual.

But as much as she loved him and hates those who took him away, Ginny still wants home.


That was my answer to Lunar's challenge back at the DG forum. The quotes I use in this drabble are from the "Wonderful Wizard of Oz" and are as followed:

- "You are talking to a man who has laughed in the face of death, sneered at doom and chuckled at catastrophe."

- "There is no place like home" is also implicated as a theme.

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