Ice Breaker

Jonah

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 5
Published: 04/10/2003
Last Updated: 04/10/2003
Status: in_progress

"Let me get this straight… You lock him up for SEVEN years, knowing very well that he would lose his mind, and now, all of a sudden, you decide that you might actually NEED it?!"

Chapters

1. Prologues

1. Prologues

Author's Note: Yep, me again. I couldn't help it this time, I swear. Before you all go crazy on me and scream, "What happened to Fatum?!", chill. Nothing's happened to Fatum. And that's just it. NOTHING. I'm on a major creative juice drought, and this, oddly enough, was the only thing I could, ah, "squeeze out".

I'm really sorry to anyone who's dying for some Fatum. I'm asking you all to please, PLEASE have some patience with me. School's being a major pain in the arse, and being a class officer isn't helping much either, what with all the functions I HAVE to go to and all. I don't know WHY this idea came to me, and why I'm evening going along with it, but please just bare with me.

Anyways, the prologue doesn't really show any of the main plot, but I feel it's really necessary, in the sense of character and character development. ._. Does that make any sense? Basically this is a little in depth look at our two main characters, and eventually (hopefully) it'll all make sense as the story progresses (again, hopefully).

So, without further ado...

"Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive."
- Goo Goo Dolls, Iris

Ice Breaker

Prologue

It was raining. He could tell from the tiny pitter patter sounds the droplets made against the brick walls. It had only just begun, he calculated, from the way the rain fell so lightly. It gradually began to grow harder, and he could soon hear the little pools of water it had made in the island's crevices.

He enjoyed listening to the rain. Every droplet created a different sound, in different octaves. It was almost like it was speaking. Like every rainfall was a new story to tell. It'd seem to be the only time everyone would stop what they were doing, and the only one speaking was the rain.

He'd always listen to what the rain had to say. It was like a lullaby - a calm, soothing song that always stilled his frenzied heart.

Because that's the kind of kid he was, really - frantic and easily excited. He was always moving around, never really managing to stay in one place for long periods of time. It greatly annoyed his parents, that's for sure. At formal or house parties, he was a menace.

But it wasn't like he didn't try to be the good, mature child his parents always tried to mold him to be. He tried, he really did. He just couldn't help it. It was like there was something deep inside of him, itching to be brought out, and every time he felt that energy being pushed down, it was like he would explode.

Sometimes he did. And he paid dearly for it, too.

He was always too emotional for his society's liking. A child of his lineage was supposed to be calm, impassive, and always on guard. And somehow, someway, he grew up to be just the opposite. He was loud, overly emotional, and weak. If it were not for his gift of a silver tongue and familiar good looks, he would've been hopeless.

And he knew that. He was constantly reminded of that…

Thunder.

He remembered loving the thunder. Once, as a little boy, he'd be out in a rainstorm just like this, running around in circles, hoping to catch as much of the rain as he could. When the thunder came, the real fun began. While the rain would soothe his heart, hearing the booming roars from the sky would do the exact opposite, making his heart accelerate, and the feeling of sheer euphoria would almost always overcome him.

Boom, the sky would say.

"Boom!" he'd shout back.

He would square off with the sky for as long as he could, but the sky would always manage to win. He was never that disappointed, however. He knew no one could beat it. He was just glad he could play.

Then the lightning came, and the game was over. Lightning wasn't like thunder. Thunder was the warning; it was harmless and innocent. All thunder could do was roar.

Like him.

But lightning was dangerous. It was quick and painful and blinding. Lightning ripped through the sky, leaving behind it a tiny glow of the scar. You could hear the sky scream every time the lightning would break it; the thunder would grow louder, so loud it was sometimes unbearable.

He would never stay out for the lightning. He never argued with his mother that it could hurt him. He would stay inside his room, huddled between the warmth of his bed and blankets, and watch from behind his window, safe and away from the danger. He'd watch the sky's tears splatter against the smooth surface of glass, and his heart would go out to it.

What had the sky done to you, he'd ask the lightning. The lightning would never answer him, only continuing searing though the black emptiness. Now, years and years later, he'd still cry for the sky. And he'd continue to, until the day lightning would finally answer him.

Boom.

I feel your pain, he thought to the sky.

It's not fair, is it?

Boom.

You never did anything wrong. You did everything he wanted you to do. You tried to be everything he wanted you to be.

But it wasn't good enough.

Nothing ever was.

Boom.

He got to his feet, and turned to the tiny hole that was his window. He was tall enough that he didn't have to tip-toe, but he did it anyway. He stretched out one hand, as far as it could go, while the other gripped the bars that held him there.

He could feel the rain's sympathy cool on his hands.

You're not alone either, the rain told him. And he smiled.

"Maybe," he answered back. Solemnly, he withdrew his hand and turned, refusing to watch the sky in pain any longer. He opened his hand, and watched the droplets seep through the cracks in his palm, and down to the floor, where it mixed with the evaporating remains of his own tears.

He'd cry at night. He had no reason to hide it anymore. He cried for the sky; the poor, helpless sky that never deserved the torture the lightning bestowed upon it. He cried for his father; the one man who deserved it less. He cried for himself. For growing up to be the naïve little child he swore he'd never be. For wanting to please him so badly.

For becoming his father's sky.

Behind him, the thunder roared with burning ferocity, and inside, he roared too.

* * *

Prologue: Deux It was raining again.

She always found the rain to be the most depressing weather, and always hated it because of that. She didn't like the feeling of gloom in the atmosphere every time the rain would fall. It seemed to prove just how unsettling life really was.

It was odd. The gentle pitter patter of raindrops against window pane would've put anybody to sleep, yet it only seemed to add to her bother. Why couldn't she just sleep, like every other sane person? Rain was the weather to sleep through, yet it kept her up, even when it was just a tiny sprinkle.

Her head felt heavy with thought. Though there seemed to be too much zooming around in her mind, that she couldn't even comprehend them all. It was frustrating. All she wanted to do was sleep, but her mind wouldn't have any of it.

So she stayed awake, that oddly familiar feeling of deep dissatisfaction creeping over her. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, and had no idea why, ironically making her want to cry some more. It was not the first time she found herself lying awake at night, on the verge of tears.

What was wrong with her? Wasn't she happy?

Many on the outside looking in would agree that her life was the epitome of perfect. Steady and self-satisfying job, an always-there-for-you family, loving and romantic boyfriend, not to mention the dignity of moving out and living in her own flat in London. Only a true imbecile wouldn't be happy with that.

Well, color her imbecilic.

She shifted from her position in her bed, nearly knocking her pillow down in the process. It was no use. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get comfortable. She got to the point of thinking she never would.

What was wrong with her, anyway? Most women her age would kill for a life like her's, yet here she is, not having the decency enough to love it, let alone be content with it.

Why wasn't she happy?

Was there something missing? Can there be something missing in a perfect life? Maybe that's it. She didn't want a perfect life. She didn't want the comfort of always knowing exactly when her parents would call, or whenever Greg would "casually" drop in, or exactly what would be in her entrance tests. She wanted adventure, not boring routines, every single day.

Is that being selfish? Hating this oh-so-perfect and truly blessed life for something else? Was it wrong to want something else?

She lifted her hand, using the back to wipe away the tears she didn't even realize were falling freely. The pillow around her head felt damp, and she wondered, not for the first time, how long she had been crying.

Her brother would be marrying soon.

It was a great shocker to everyone, really. Out of all of her brothers - and there was a lot - he was the last person she ever thought would tie the knot. He never took anything seriously, and she'd be damned if he ever even saw a wedding band.

Yet there he was, smiling happily with one long arm wrapped around his equally grinning fiance on the picture he sent with his letter. It was hard to tell who looked happier.

She figured she should've known. They were always interacting on the pitch - it only made sense they'd have the same chemistry on the ground.

She was happy for them. She really was. But she couldn't help feeling a tiny flame of envy ignite whenever she stole a glance at their photo, or the burning desire to hurl it in her fireplace.

She wanted that. Not the whole prospect of getting married, because Merlin knows she's way too young, but their happiness. Why couldn't she smile like that anymore? Did she ever?

Maybe something was wrong with her.

Yes, that was it. She's just insane, that's all.

Funny how much more comforting questioning her sanity was, than thinking she was fine but unhappy.

The rain grew harder, and she felt her skin tingle beneath her layers of blankets. She wrapped her arms around herself on impulse, and felt the raised goosebumps at her fingertips. Were those from the cold, or her crying?

Thunder.

She shuddered, hearing the loud boom echo inside the walls of her bedroom. Oh, how much she wanted to sleep. Then she'd be able to get away from the rain, the thunder, her thoughts…

She turned, and caught sight of the photo conventiently propped up on her bedside table. The couple smiled and waved at her, then frowned, seeing the pained look suddenly flash across her face. With a loud sniff, she turned sharply, and fought her hardest to stop the tears that were already flowing.

Out of her window, the sky flashed white with lightning, and the overwhelming roar of thunder filled her ears.