Author's Notes: I wrote this in about ten minutes today after feeling very inspired. I hope it's not total crap.
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine.
The Only One in my Corner
I look around the space that I'm in and shudder at the emptiness I see.
My flat was never that big, you know, but it seems enormous – it's the loneliness, I think. And at the same time I almost want to cry because sometimes I swear that it's going to crush me. Sometimes the emptiness seems to encroach upon even my sorrow and threatens to choke me.
The shadows in the corner I'm sitting in remind me of you.
Depending on when the light changes, (I sit here all day watching it, you know) and how it hits that plant that you forgot to take with you, I see the silhouette of you leaning down to kiss me. The whisper of those curtains your mum made sound like you saying my name in the night.
No, I haven't forgotten the sound.
The shadows remind me of how I could never really touch you, but I always thought I could.
For some reason – I know it sounds silly now – I had the notion that I could keep you in my pocket; no, not away from the rest of the world, just so that all you saw was me; but I guess it's the same thing. I never thought that you really loved me; I always thought it was hero worship, and I never minded. The adoration in your brown eyes was like coming home. All I needed was to see your orbs sparkle when they looked at me and I felt like a god.
So how could you do this to me?
Sometimes I swear that my cries take shape and form – become the image of your body in the firelight. Like that time we went to Italy and you danced naked in front of the fire. I wanted you so badly, you know. I would have made love to you under the moonlight – if not for the fact that I knew that the stars could see. You always did live half on the edge of excitement, of danger. But I could never take it; and so I told you to put on that green robe I bought for you. And without complaint you did.
But when those cries that I mentioned earlier reach their peak point, I don't see you. They're just a sightless sound, and I wish sometimes for the simplest of mirages of you. Because I miss you, god I miss you. And I've told you that I loved you before, but it was always as we were wrapped under my green sheets, and I was on the precipice of dreaming. And I don't think I ever remembered saying it in the morning.
So I love you Ginny Weasley.
I'm fucking screaming it right now – do you hear me saying it? Out wherever you are – and I say wherever, even though I know your exact location. I can't stand the thought that you're with him. That he's touching places on the atlas of your body that you've begged me to but I never did.
I've become a wreck, sitting here in this corner, waiting for you to take up your space beside me. I try and chase the dust from settling here, because it's where you belong and I don't want anyone else to be there. I miss you, I miss you, and I miss you.
Do you mind that I've only said I love you once in this whole pointless diatribe? I'll say it again if you want me to; just tell me that you'll repeat it before the echo comes back to slap me across the face like the sound of the door shutting when you left.
Were you upset that I never begged you to come back? Is that why you went to him? I'd beg a thousand times more if I could just see…you…
I throw my hands into my hair and pull, anguished as I recall that night you snuggled into my embrace – that night at your flat. Do you remember, Ginny? You said, "Harry, what color are my eyes?" And I told you, sure as anything, "Hazel." And you smiled at me gently and fell asleep in my arms –
Hazel?
Oh, no. No, no.
And now I understand. Now in this very instant I want to tear my soul out, as the image of you in Malfoy's arms comes to me. You don't know about this, Ginny. But he does because he saw me.
That night I opened the door to your flat and went to the bedroom. I saw your eyes were closed. And you were wrapped up with him under your silver sheets. And he saw me and said, "Do you know what my favorite color is, love?" And you murmured, "No," in that throaty voice of yours I remember so well.
"Green," he said, kissing you on your neck. "Slytherin Green."
Just like your eyes.
Fin
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