Author: Ha'niqua PM
Spring is the only equal to her beauty, Autumn the only equal to his bitter pain. D/G, for Incognito's October Challenge on the D/G Forum.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance/Tragedy - Ginny W. & Draco M. - Words: 1,021 - Reviews: 16 - Favs: 3 - Published: 10-17-10 - Status: Complete - id: 6406298
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, nor do I own any place or item referenced or featuring in this story; all belong to J.K. Rowling.
AN: Written for Incognito's Challenge on the D/G Forum. The first thing I've written in a while due to absolutely no free time/total writer's block, so sorry to anyone that's been holding out for an update with TVC. Please Review and tell me your thoughts – Loved it? Hated it? Bored you to death? Tell me, so I can make my next fic even better. Thanks heaps, love you all!
Prompt: October (fall or spring)
Challenge: Find the beauty or the ugliness in the season.
Draco inhaled deeply as he stood on the edge of the cliffs. The cool breeze carried a thousand scents, each invigorating and intense in its own way. The sky glowed golden while the sun sunk lazily in the distance, glinting as it disappeared into the ocean, and he reveled in the unmatched splendor of the unique landscape. The vibrance and energy of a sunset in Spring continually amazed him. It was like a little slice of heaven that he coveted - it gave him hope that his sins could be forgiven.
The wind gently tousled his hair like a friendly caress and Draco smiled sardonically. How he craved everything about Spring - it didn't matter his location, but as he travelled, chasing the peacefully glorious weather, it never ceased to disappoint him. Unlike the haggard claws of Autumn, Spring could never viciously assault him.
The sun dipped leisurely into the distant ocean, and the sky was shot blood red. It pulled at a memory - one he'd continuously tried to bury with the rest of his depraved past to no avail. A distant memory of vibrant red locks, a blush spreading over smooth creamy skin as rich golden eyes sparkled up at him, floated just out of his reach. It was a memory he had long forgotten in his search for peace and it tormented him. She alone knew the truth of his alleged past crimes and without her he would have nothing. She had sacrificed so much for his freedom, and as the sun surrendered to the dark of night, Draco knew his heart was surrendered to her. There was no joy in his life without her and he had been a damnable fool to scorn her cruelly. Without Ginevra he was nothing - just as without the frigid bitterness of Autumn, the magnificence of Spring's beauty could never be revealed.
A moment later, his decision made, he grasped his wand firmly in his hand, and with a sudden pop Apparated into the harsh, bitter air of Ottery St. Catchpole.
His body felt the absence of Spring instantly. Icy air nipped at his skin, eliciting shivers across his spine. He cursed before conjuring a cloak to defend himself from the wind, then determinedly trudged toward the Burrow.
The unused track was rough and rugged and the wind seemed to grow harsher, chafing his exposed skin. Draco pulled the cloak tighter around his body, but it seemed as though the frigid air was determined to pull him away. As the dark night air bit and nipped at him, tugging roughly at his long-buried past, he felt his resolve slip... and his footsteps slowed.
How many years had it been since he'd seen her? The only time he knew was the sun's journey through the sky. Would she know him? He knew he must look different - no longer the refined wizard he once was, but instead a lowly haggard remnant of the wizarding world's most disgraceful moment of history. The wind whispered doubts about his past and future in his ears, and as the Burrow loomed ominously before him, he couldn't muster the strength to continue. How could he taint the woman he loved with his past? She would forever be estranged from everyone she knew - would never rest in a moment's peace - so long as she was with him. He was a fugitive and unworthy of anything so pure as her love.
He wasn't sure how long he stood outside her home, staring toward the structure in regret, but as the sky began to blush pink with sunrise, he turned to leave. He couldn't risk being found and endangering her.
Ginny lay in her bed still as a statue. She had been awake for hours - the past few years her mind never seemed to allow her more than a few hours of relief from the tragedy of life - and she knew that if she were to rise earlier than sunrise her mother would be on the warpath to figure out what was wrong with her. She had made that fatal mistake only once, and she didn't want to repeat the experience. So she lay pathetically on her cold bed, staring frigidly at her window, waiting for the sky beyond to lighten so she could go about her day in her usual mechanical fashion. No need to concern her family with her missing heart.
It was why she despised the colder season so: the nights were long and lonely. She did nothing but lie in the darkness and stew on her failed love, with no respite until dawn broke her reverie.
The moment the sky began lighten, she rose from her bed. She wasn't entirely sure why, but something compelled her towards the window. She stood there, staring at the nothingness beyond as her mind tortured her heart spitefully.
Below her stood a man, whose face she knew better than her own. He stood staring up at her, his tall strong figure wrapped in darkness. A cold wind whipped at him, a torrent of leaves rustling around him, and the pain in his face rendered her breathless. His long hair whipped wildly around his head; then a moment later he disappeared.
Ginny spared one last mournful glance to the spot where her love had stood before she steeled herself to face the bitter day ahead.