Half Past Five
by prexus
A/N: Why, hello. It looks like you've stumbled upon this ficlet. =D This is a D/G fic and it's kind of dramatic and angsty. _O It takes place near the end of the War … It's about change and how people shouldn't assume that things should always stay the same. I hope you like it!
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You said go slow / I fall behind / The second hand unwinds / If you're lost you can look and you will find me / Time after time / If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting / Time after time. –Cyndi Lauper
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I pass by the bench. There's a girl and she's in the arms of a boy. The girl has red hair, the boy with blonde.
Everyone knows who the girl and boy are; we see them there every evening at exactly half past five. It's been nearly three years. I've seen them everyday, three hundred sixty five times three, since I started working at Gringott's.
There aren't many people wandering the pebble-plated streets of Diagon Alley anymore. Ever since the war started, well, you know.
Of course, the week before September, it's always crowded with kids. School must go on. I remember school. I remember the blonde boy and redhead girl. They never liked each other much.
Things change, I suppose. Indeed, things change.
Rumor has it that the war is coming to an end. A lot of things come to an end at a time like this, when trust and faith are just so fragile. So fragile.
We all lost someone in the Cause. Seeing those two on the bench everyday at half past five was a reassurance that some things don't change.
Ah, but that was the beauty of it. We assumed that things would not, could not, change.
Half past five. On Monday, they were holding hands. I smiled as I walked past.
Half past five. On Tuesday, they were sharing an ice cream cup. It was the most darling thing.
Half past five. On Wednesday, she was holding a bouquet of roses. And I notice, a silver ring on their fingers.
And they're smiling like there's no tomorrow, or the day after that.
My heart beat wildly for them. It was like it was happening to me.
On Thursday, I look twice. There's only … one of them. The girl with red hair sits on a bench, twisting the ring. There's a pleasant smile on her face, as if nothing was wrong.
Maybe I'm early, I think. Half past five like always. Maybe he's late, I make an excuse for him, Maybe he was held up by his work.
Friday. There's a boy selling newspapers. The war is over! The war is over! You wouldn't imagine the delight I felt, but then, maybe you felt the same way when you heard.
I walk past the bench. Her face is buried in her hands. She's shaking, and she's crying. There's a ring on her finger, the same one two days ago.
Everyone gives her pitying glances. Whispers from passersby's.
See, right here on the newspaper! His name.
Isn't it sad? It almost makes me want to cry.
Poor Ginny. Engaged only a few days ago.
Draco had always been good to her.
Half past five. I walk by the bench, and it's empty. Except for a bouquet of dying roses.
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Yea, I know you see that review button down there. J And we all know how much you love me. (wink) So why don't you just clickity-split that button.