Flame And Freeze

A/N: Like I promised (Or did I?) here's Chapter 2, ice. After this, well, we'll have to see.

Disclaimer: Ginny, Draco, Harry (Potter) and all are copyright © and belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

Ice

Ice intrigued Ginny.

She didn't know why, or how, but it did. It amazed her that something could be so cold, so hard, so stony. It was so hard to crack, to leave a mark across its surface, to break through the coldness. It shied away from all who wanted-or even tried-to approach it. Ice kept in the cold, never letting heat in.

But-in the end-it did melt. Somehow, one way or another, heat, fire, warmth would come in, squeeze in some small crack or opening. And then it melted, slowly, into water, liquid. But still cold. However, if left by the warmth for long enough, it eventually warmed up, adjusted. The thing was getting the heat in. It was so hard to break through that terrible exterior. But one thing could.

Fire.

Fire could melt ice. It might take time, energy, perseverance, but fire, in the end, could master ice.

Or so some people said.

Then again, many also said that ice was the master, that ice could freeze the fire.

Ice certainly was powerful. If strong enough, with the necessary help, it could freeze everything. Stop what it didn't like, destroy what it wanted to destroy. But fire was there to melt it, each and every time.

Ginny herself agreed with neither of those sayings. Or perhaps she agreed with both.

***

Ice.

The name itself sent haunting chills up her spine. Brought tingles to her body. It was so cold. Frozen. Stony.

It was so chilling; it lingered behind as a silent cold remembrance of its very being. It scared her. But it touched her as well. It was so sad.

She didn't believe that anything should have to feel that kind of cold it its own heart, in its very soul. She couldn't imagine having that chill, that frozen feeling everyday.

She had first touched ice when she was a small, small child of five years. Felt its coldness.

Charlie had taken her out to the pond that he had magically charmed to freeze into ice. They were going to go ice-skating. Ginny had run out in excitement without any warm clothing and slid and fell on the ice. She had never felt such cold before.

So much that it scared her.

Forever after that she believed it was better to die than to live a life like ice did.

Cold and alone.

She had told her mother later that day that she was going to melt all ice in the world, "because it's cold and alone and sad." Brave words from a small child, and her family had merely chuckled, her mother just thrusting a jar of bluebell flames in Ginny's cold hands.

What none of her family had realized was that she was serious. Dead serious. She didn't ever want anyone to feel that way. And if she saw someone that way, she would melt them. Because she knew that indeed they were cold and alone and sad. And afraid.

***

Ginny knew that there were people like that out there somewhere. She had seen pain and had known the feeling of being scared and alone. It was terrible to be alone. She couldn't bear it, having no one to call out to, to talk to, to confide in. You could beat her, threaten her, torture her, scorn her, and still, the thing that frightened her the most of all would be loneliness.

She wanted to break through, get where no one had gone before. Show him she cared.

Him. Ice. They were one and the same.

He sneered and mocked and jeered at her, yet she wanted to help. Because she saw something deep inside his eyes that no one else saw. Something powerful and wanting; a hopelessness, a sadness, but also a strength.

But it couldn't have been her he called to...

She tried to reach to Harry, tried to touch him. But Harry wasn't ice, he had love and warmth and happiness. And then there were times she felt she was dying, disappearing-and someone brought her back.

With his coldness, he brought her back, showed her where she needed to be. Reminded her of those innocent words as a child that perhaps had molded her very self. 

He was the one she would melt. The one she would help.

***

She knew he was cold.

Draco Malfoy and ice meant the same thing. Cold and hard.

Maybe she couldn't melt all the ice in the world, but she could help him. And she wanted to help him, to show him love and life.

She knew he needed her. To warm him, to breathe fire into his cold and frozen heart.

But he had to let her in. He had to let her reach out to him, to warm him, to show him.

He kept her going. As he needed her, she also needed him. Even if she couldn't, or shouldn't, she did. She did.

***

He was different. Ice was different.

She knew that. He replaced love and caring with silent anger and jeering.

Maybe he didn't know how to love. Maybe he never had loved. And maybe even a part of him didn't want to love, wanted to stay in his cold, lonely world, pushing all intruders out. But she wouldn't let him push her out. She would reach to him, right into the stony depths of his cold soul and pull out the person she knew he really was inside.

Part of her, a very small part, was angry with him–and ice–for being so cold. For letting himself grow into a lonely, friendless person, scorning all who tried to help. She didn't think it was fair to him. And to all who wanted to reach to him.

She was angry at ice, for slipping away from the grasp of all who touched it.  And so it was forbidden.

Forbidden to go near, forbidden to touch, forbidden to hold. Or was it was forbidden to her?

So really, it was his fault that she couldn't touch him. Touch his heart.

Imagine her family's remarks and jeers. They would laugh, scoff at her, joke about it ever afterwards. Then they would be angered. They wouldn't believe that she could love someone so cold. Or that someone so cold could love her. And maybe he couldn't. Maybe he really couldn't love her, and maybe he didn't. But she did. She loved him.

She loved him the way he was; she accepted the way he was.

And as much as she wanted it to be otherwise, she couldn't forget him. Couldn't leave him, the thought of him. Couldn't regard it as a mere crush and move on. Because it wasn't just a crush.

It was part of her. Part of her soul. Part of something so deep inside it moved with her through the day and stayed in her thoughts through the night.

***

She'd never wanted something so much in her life.

Never needed something, someone this much, so that her entire being called out to him.

Her heart yearned for him. Her soul sang to him. Her very being lived for the next look, even if it was a scorning glare. For words, even if they were spiteful and heart wrenching. For then she at least knew he noticed her.

She hated not being able to hate him. She hated the way she relied on him so much.

But she also loved him.

And she couldn't have him.

People said you always wanted what you can't have. Perhaps that was true, as he was certainly forbidden to her.

Forbidden. Forbidden to think of holding him. Forbidden to think of touching his lips, warming his soul. He was forbidden fruit.

She was forbidden to love him.

Forbidden love.

But she loved him nevertheless.

As it was meant to be.

Fire and Ice.

ICE

A/N: You really don't know how much reviews are appreciated. (Unless you're an author too.) They're a writer's best friend. So review!