Story Title: A Colored Delusion
Author: Hawk Martin
Disclaimer: I don't own Ginny or Draco.
Dedication: No idea. Let's pick someone randomly: Oscar Wilde.
A/N: No weird quote this time and no formatting. I was kind of lazy and just wanted to type this up quickly 'cause I have to leave soon. It's Ginny/Draco. And it's sad. So…shove it.
Summary: "…he's beginning to notice the scarlet emptiness painted upon her eyelids."
Notes: Blah. Blah.
Rating: PG. Kind of morbid.
Warning: Electricity kills. Literally.
She doesn't talk to him anymore.
Maybe they never did, and now that his life is a mess, he's beginning to notice the scarlet emptiness painted upon her eyelids. Maybe now that the world's variety has been reduced to colors—black and white—he feels the hatred for idolatries and pettiness. His desire for conversation is ironic and, with a sense of bitter hesitation, he's realized he needs her. And yet, even so, she remains silent beside her blasted window and he hates it. Hates her, hates him—hates everything.
Sometimes, if he is persistent with a sense of vulnerability, she begins to worry and speaks with a meek tone out to the darkness. But…even then…all she leaves him with are colors and loneliness; colors and a blur. She never says it…not once. Even if he bribes her with flowers and soaks her with kisses—still nothing. Silence.
He's going to leave her soon. Maybe he's known forever that it wouldn't work out; maybe he's just tired of the quiet. The heavy quiet that now plagues his dreams; riddles his mind. He's been trying for so long now, but the end has come.
Then again…Draco should've known all along that Ginny can't talk to him anymore—she's dead.