Chapter 2- When the rain...
A/N- I don't have much to say. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Remember to spread the news; the review button has a fetish for pineapples.
Disclaimer- I don't own anything. J K Rowling does.
Previously- She didn't want to admit it but somehow, she knew, she was still falling.
I don't understand
This should be so easy
To reach out my hand
And know the world is free
But nothing's as it seems
I can tell you freely
Touching's not the only way to feel
When the rain falls
It's like Heaven's crying
When the name's all
The difference that there is
Cause tears are
The same thing when they're trying to grow something good
Out of all the pain
There's no difference between the teardrops and the rain
I know you proudly say
That I'm just talking crazy
To think of life that way
Means that I'm confused
There's happy and there's sad
But maybe yes just maybe
The sadness can make the happiness come true
-When the Rain Falls
The rain fell as merciless as it had the past weeks. Ginny Weasley continued sitting there, watching the steady rain pelt the window. The wool blanket still wrapped tightly against her pale body.
Not many could have guessed this young lady was emotionally worn. She had attempted to ward off certain memories but to no avail. Ginny had found it easier not to feel; not to care. However, she felt and she cared, as much as she resented that fact.
All morning, she had been flooded with memories she longed to get rid of.
FLASHBACK
Ginny snuggled against the maroon couch; basking in the warmth of the fire and the smell of Christmas that was spread throughout the common room. Ginny loved the feeling of Christmas. It was one of perpetual joy and warmth. It also helped that Voldemort had been defeated only a month before.
The steady crackle of the roaring fire came as an odd comfort to Ginny. Things had fallen into place...
A large group of pink-faced, worn-out Gryffindors seemed to be congregating near the notice board.
Not quite wanting to get up, Ginny resolved to stay in her spot until the crowd died down.
An excited murmur began to spread through the warm common room. Soon after, the crowd dispersed and Ginny reluctantly left her warm, comforting, velvet haven. Before she could reach the notice board, a noise broke the quiet, continuous crackle of the fire.
The curiosity for this noise became far greater than the one for the sheet of paper. Ginny carefully followed the sound to the boys' dormitories.
"HA! Your turn Harry. Who would you least want to go on a date with?"
"Ginny."
An enormous laugh erupted and Ginny felt hot tears brim in her eyes and pour down her face. She ran past the once comforting fireplace and up towards the girls' dormitory, missing the final part of Harry's answer.
"I would spend the whole time thinking I don't deserve her. She's...amazing."
END FLASHBACK
However, memory is not an accurate chronicle of things. It is more of an abstract painting of how things are remembered as being. Ginny had not heard Harry's final answer, yet the memory that was plaguing her mostly was a painful one. It was as welcome as a splash of cold water on a cold, January morning.
The harsh wind whistled through the cracks in the wall, impacting Ginny's frail body. The wool blanket was tightened even more. Not so much in an effort to block the cold for the cold would come as it pleased, but more of an effort to block the memories that seemed to have a negative impact on this once cheerful girl. Once, she had found a warm butterbean spreading slowly through her body relaxing. Now, her only pleasure lay in watching the rain, which continued to fall as hard and uncontrollably as it had when it first began to rain. The memory came back and the tears fell and mingled with her dull red hair and the tormenting rain drops.
There's no difference between the tear drops and the rain.
Tabytha