Zenith

blazefury

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Mystery
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 4
Published: 03/05/2003
Last Updated: 03/05/2003
Status: paused

Ginny walks with dark memories that haunt her. She can't forget him. She loves him and nothing can take that away, even if he is gone. He is with her everywhere. In the faces that she sees, the voices that she hears and the skin that she touches. It is all him, even in the face of her new lover, Draco.

Chapters

1. Prologue: XVI

1. Prologue: XVI

Title: Zenith
Author name: blazefury
Author email: le_femme_Y@hotmail.com
Category: Mystery
Sub Category: Romance
Keywords: Draco Ginny Tom Darkness
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: CoS
Summary: Ginny walks with dark memories that haunt her. She can't forget him. She loves him and nothing can take that away, even if he is gone. He is with her everywhere. In the faces that she sees, the voices that she hears and the skin that she touches. It is all him, even in the face of her new lover, Draco
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author notes: To dark shadows that are the puppet masters of my world. Heathens. Forsake thee.

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But wherefore do not you a mightier way

Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?

And fortify yourself in your decay

With means more blessed than my barren rhyme?

Now stand you on the top of happy hours;

And many maiden gardens, yet unset,

With virtuous wish would bear your living flowers,

Much liker than your painted counterfeit;

So should the lines of life that life repair,

Which this, Time’s pencil, or my pupil pen,

Neither in inward worth, nor outward fair,

Can make you live yourself in eyes of men.

To give away yourself keeps yourself still;

And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.

-Shakespeare

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Prologue: XVI

Ginny walks down the dark and damp corridor. Her black, worn out flat-soled shoes make crunching noises as they come in contact with the stone-paved ground. With her head lowered, her mass of wavy flaming red hair curtains a pale face holding brandy-coloured orbs and cheeks sprinkled with freckles. She clutches her second-hand textbooks that are falling apart, the pages yellow with age and the spines cracked and broken.

The sporadic lighting of the old castle causes darkness to consume her one moment then let her go in a spotlight of flames, and then consume her once more. She watches as the shadows from the ensconced candles flicker eerily and dance around her. Watching her, following her, mocking her.

Her mind is just playing tricks on her, isn’t it? Her eyes frantically search out for someone, but she is alone and so she walks faster. She swallows and she looks toward the ground, not bearing to look up.

What is that?

She stops and strains her ears to listen to the footsteps she had heard just a few seconds ago. There is nothing but deafening silence and so she continues walking, the cold seeping through her thin robes and chilling her to her bones. She hears the footsteps again and her fluid pace hastens. Her lip trembles slightly and she wills the footsteps to stop. Then she hears something else.

Voices.

Hoarse disembodied whispering. Not one but several, all around her. She stops and looks around her, begging for the voices to be coming from a group of students coming her way. But they aren’t. There isn’t anyone. She is completely and utterly alone.

The voices whisper at the same time, sounding conspiratorial and somewhat mocking. They grow louder and each voice tries to drown out the other. She seems to be the centre of the whirlwind and her hand raggedly runs through her hair. Her eyes flash with fear and her breathing starts to grow laboured. She drops her books and she trembles, unable to move, cemented to the spot. Panicking. Her hands go up to her ears and try to shut out the refrains of insanity that manage to seep through her barrier. Her eyes close tightly and a tear escapes as she cries for it all to stop.

It does.

Her eyes open ever so slowly and she looks around with wide eyes, flickering over into every corner. Her small hands leave her ears and she swallows audibly. Her lips still trembling, she waits for a moment to see if it starts again.

The coldness of the corridor becomes more pronounced and she wraps her robes around her tighter before she bends down to retrieve her books. Her Potions textbook needs to be taped to hold it in place again. Just as she touches the book, the hairs on the back of her neck stand and she feels a presence. Inhaling sharply she looks at her book, her hand shivering terribly. She holds back tears as she begins to stand up right.

Turning ever so slowly, she looks down the corridor to see no one.

She exhales noisily and bends down again to gather her books. She gets everything this time and looks around.

Nothing.

Then in the corner of her eye, she sees one of the lights has been extinguished. No matter, she walks on, and then the other light is put out. She blinks rapidly to hold back tears and walks faster. The faster she walks, the faster the lights are smothered. She runs, yearning for her legs to go faster, and then the whole corridor goes pitch black except for the few shafts of weak milky moonlight filtering through the top windows.

She sobs and backs up into a wall, her books dropping once more to the floor. Looking around her desperately she sobs and tries to get her bearings.

Footsteps.

She denies the footsteps and her tears fall more rapidly. She feels the presence draw closer, stronger, and an icy wind blows through.

Shivering, she closes her eyes and sniffs, one hand coming up to wipe away the wetness on her cheeks.

The footsteps stop and she knows the presence is just in front of her. The smell of wood and trees reaches her nose and remembers that familiar scent. Opening her eyes ever so slowly, she strains her eyes in the darkness.

The presence steps forward.

Her eyes widen and they trace the outline of the firm body in front of her and the corners of her mouth lift up.

It’s him.

He utters her name ever so softly and she loves how it sounds.

She smiles wildly; sniffing back her tears and throws her arms around him. Clutching him tightly, gripping his thick robes. She feels his own arms go around her and hold her just as tightly. One hand slides up her back and rakes through her hair. Comforting her.

Placing a soft kiss on her head he looks up and a sliver of light falls on his face and reveals him, a glint in his eye and a smirk on his lips.

“Tom,” her sweet sigh of relief says.

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