Wind by ragdollangel

Rating: G
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 4
Published: 28/11/2005
Last Updated: 28/11/2005
Status: Completed

As he sat up that night, he realized that it was always about her.




1. Wind
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**Title:** Wind

**Author:** ragdollangel

**Category:** Angst

**Disclaimer:** They aren't mine (tho' I wish they were). All hail JKR.

**Feedback:** I would really appreciate it if you had the time =)

**Summary:** As he sat up that night, he realized that it was always about her.

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He stared out of the window across the room, watching the night wind whip its way through the
trees. They said if you listened closely, you could hear secrets-whispered fortunes that
tantalizingly teased you just before they melted away into the darkness.

But all he heard was her name.

He stood up silently, and walked over to the window. He closed his eyes as the wind swirled
around him, bringing in a kaleidoscope of visions. They passed through his mind-disjointed,
haphazard-with no seeming purpose other than to mock him.

Always her face.

He hated himself for letting her mean that much to him. That wasn't what he had been
taught.

Feelings were only for the weak-that was what his father had once said. One had to eliminate
anything that could make you lose focus. There was no room for failure. These were guidelines that
that held him in good stead for all those years.

All those years before her.

He took a deep breath. The air smelt of nightfall. Bitter and smoky. Outside, in the abandoned
garden, something fluttered, as if snagged by a piece of briar. As the moonlight caught it, he saw
that it was a scrap of flannel. Red.

He winced involuntarily. It always came back to her.

Her smile, her tears, her love, her hate. always her. There were things he wished he could have
said to her. Things that sometimes frightened him.

The candle flickered-its flame darting from left to right-away from the wind, it's greedy
fingers stretching and curving around the lonely speck of light. In the distance he heard the hoot
of an owl. Eerie, and strangely familiar. There had been so many nights like this. Nights when the
boy he had never wanted to be, and the man he had become, sat and regarded each other with mutual
hatred.

Suddenly his life felt empty. Nothing but shadows on the wall-dark and intangible. She had been
his light. The tiny flame he had let in, all those years ago. The flame that he had snuffed out,
bit by bit, with cold words and silence.

The candle flickered again, and then silently gave up. A thin spiral of smoke rose, and
instantly vanished as another gust of wind ripped its way mercilessly through it. The wind tugged
at his hair, speaking of days gone by, choices made, and festering regrets.

He stepped back. Some things were better left forgotten.

He shut the window and walked back to the bed. But the memories refused to go away. He thought
of the time he had told her that he didn't need her anymore. That she meant nothing to him. He
remembered the perverse pleasure he had felt-as if by destroying her, he was somehow set free.

Her face had been indecipherable. Silent. Stony.

Sometimes he wondered if she had really cared for him. If the only reason she allowed herself to
be with him, was because she was afraid of letting go. Afraid of the unknown.

He thought of the day she left. She had quietly told him that she wanted more than he could ever
give her. She had stood there for a minute, as if daring him to stop her. Hoping perhaps, that this
might change things.

He had just watched her go.

He could still hear the wind screaming out to him, hammering against the pane.

He had seen her picture occasionally in the papers after that. Smiling alongside Potter. He told
himself that she was happier. That maybe this was what she needed. But he had noticed the faint
circles under her eyes. She had tried to hide them, and Potter probably never noticed. But he could
always tell. He knew her. Inside out.

His lips tightened imperceptibly. He didn't care. He couldn't care.

He frowned slightly, thinking about that again. He had known she was right. She always was. What
they had could never last. They had never made any promises, and there was no reason for them to be
together. Maybe he ought to leave as well. Go away as far as he could. Maybe then she would cease
to exist for him. Maybe then he wouldn't feel that unexplainable ache whenever he thought of
her with someone else.

After all, she was no one special. Just another plaything, easily discarded. He would leave, and
all those thoughts of her would dissolve into oblivion.

Just as all thoughts of him had faded from her mind.

It would be so easy to leave all this behind.

He faltered for a minute, and looked out of the window again. The wind was dying down slowly,
achingly-as though reluctant to leave. Dry leaves lay scattered in its aftermath, the only evidence
of its fading presence.

But it still called out to him, faintly.

He turned and looked at her, asleep beside him, her red gold hair dark in the moonlight.

He half-smiled bitterly.

They both knew they would keep coming back.

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fin



