Winter Greetings
It was winter. The landscape surrounding Hogwarts was dreary and gray. Trees bare and lifeless. Branches jutting their way upwards, dead. The snowed in white lawn was unmarred in the early morning.
The castle was silent of students and Ginny was alone as she wandered the stone corridors, one hand trailing along the rough stone as she gazed out a window.
She stopped and stared outside. The snow was falling ever so lightly, creating a misty effect. It didn't help that tears were building and falling from her eyes.
Small gasps and sobs overwhelmed her and she sank to her knees, wrapping her arms around her body as she curled closer into her body, shaking desperately.
He was dead.
And… she was alone.
One hand reaches out, pale and bloody, vivid crescents leaving trails of crimson. Heaving, she sobs, and wrenches her arm close to her body, crying.
He is gone!
She is speaking, under her breath, only she can hear her swallowed husky words. She tears at her simple black robe madly, her face tear streaked, blotchy and pink, but her eyes… are terribly blank.
Pulling at the fabric until it tears, a small gap showing a glimpse of black and blue skin. She presses her hand down into her flesh. She ignores the pains, and feels him for the first time since he died. Lips twitching erratically, she hugs herself. He was here. So short time ago.
Touching her, branding her, making her feel so much. She shivers at her thoughts and pulls in closer. Rocking back and forth she begins a desperate chant.
One that seeks death.
"Why are you crying?"
The voice comes out of now where. She snaps up her head and stares around until she sees a flash of a black cloak and man boy's face.
"Harry?" she asks nervously, whispering his name.
He smirks and his face morphs into another.
She leans back and starts shaking, "D-draco? How?! You were…" she stops and turns her face away.
Then Harry, reaches down and strokes her cheek.
Draco pulls back and slaps her hard.
Her cheek rings from the slap and begins to burns lightly with pain, blushing pink.
"What? Why… are you doing this to me?" tears fall from her face as the figure smiles at her warmly (but awkwardly) then sneers down at her, disgust in his silver eyes.
No longer taking it she tears her face away and stares at the pristine lawn, the gentle fall of flawlessness flakes.
Hands pull her up and drag her against a wall, the fingers dig into arms and she cries out, sagging forward. But now, she doesn't look up.
"Why don't you look at me?"
She sighs gently, in sadness, defeat and affection. Surrendering she loses strength and falls into his stiff embrace. "Oh Tom…" she says breathy, "I've missed you so much…" she finishes tearfully.
For a single moment, he hugs her tightly.
However it is not meant to be.
Slowly he slips through her fingers till she left with nothing, holding nothing but air.
Collapsing again she goes into herself. Retreating into a mind that is losing itself.
She sits there sobbing, speaking and shaking, for a while. Until the day wanes and begins anew…
Ginevra decides then.
Standing up, facing the window where the weak winter early morning sun shines through, a pale yellow light reveals lines at the corners of her eyes and deep shadows under her eyes. Her wild red hair lays around her face, skin sallow and pasty, the strands glitter under the sun's touch and she sweeps them back with a throw of her head.
Her eyes are determined and her mouth a thin line of chapped roseate.
She steps forward, into fate's embrace.
The little Weasley was such a pretty girl, with her lovely hair and strong eyes. But inside she could crack if you exerted enough pressure… and today she had reached breaking point.
The window cracks as she slams into it after a short but swift race from the wall, it resists for only a moment before breaking under her weight.
Then for a moment I am free. Flying through the air, arms out spread and a large grin on my face.
It ends as soon I hit the ground.
An arm snaps, through dying eyes I see the blood splatter the purity of the glistening white snow. Shards of glass lay around me, glinting nastily up at me.
I drift off dreamily.
That's how they found her.
A broken figure dressed in a shabby robe, a long tear revealing old bruised flesh. Face bloody with cuts littering her face.
Dries blood lays on the muddy snow, purity gone, rusty and dead, it spread out from her twisted finger tips.
But…
She has the most beautiful smile of her face.
I would have treasured that smile.
Had I not been too late.