Phantom Murmurings
Summary: [Harry x Ginny, implied Draco x Ginny] She can move on, but she will never forget.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
A/N: I thought this up at midnight last night. I love the last paragraph; I think Draco smoking is nearly fanon now.
Completely random title. Very short.
Phantom Murmurings
The wedding was lovely; she was told this by nearly everyone who had attended. She was dressed impeccably (white, elegant gown; red hair curled and falling in cascades around her shoulders), and so was he (pressed black tuxedo; emerald green eyes shining with a perverse, devilish pride).
"Do you take Ginevra Weasley to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do," the man (she wouldn't-couldn't-call him her husband) replied; his eyes gleamed and she wanted ever-so-much to love him.
"And do you take Harry Potter to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
"I do"-she tried to imagine that instead of horrible, jaded green, his eyes were cold, haughty silver, and that his hair was white-blonde and not jet-black, and that was a smirk and not a smile-and she allowed him to take her hands in his.
That night, she dreamt of snakes and broomsticks and skulls and the lingering scent of a seventeen year-old boy's cigarette smoke. She had never felt so alive.
{End}