The Blower's Daughter

A/N- Just a little one shot that I wrote while attempting to write A Study of the Mind, ch. 10 and a little something before I go to the Tampa Power Regional for Winter Guard this Friday. A Study of the Mind, ch. 10 is not cooperating at the moment, but it will soon enough. "The Blower's Daughter" happens to be one of my favorite songs, so I took special care to make sure that it didn't sound overly horrid. I think it came out pretty decent.

Disclaimer: I disclaim all of the characters that the wonderful J.K. Rowling has created. Shucks. I also disclaim "The Blower's Daughter" by Damien Rice, which can be found on his album O or the Closer soundtrack.



The Blower’s Daughter


All of his life he watched her.

His fascination with her bordered on the verge of obsession. He knew everything there was to know about her: what her favourite colour was, her favourite Quidditch team, how her hair lightened when stayed out in the sun too long, or that when she liked a boy, her ears would turn a shade of pink whenever she was near them. Everything taken from what seemed like a lifetime’s worth of observation.

He didn’t know why he observed her, learned her every eccentricity. He tried to figure a plausible reason behind it, but he came up with the same one every time: she had defied him. And through her defiance, she had sparked something in him, something that made him watch her; covertly getting to know the inner machinations of her complicated and troubled mind.

So for six years, he had watched her, never letting his secret slip; not to his housemates, not to his parents and never to her.

Unbeknownst to him, though, what had seemed like a simple series of second glances over the years had turned into something more.

He began to take a liking to her. He began to take an interest in her life. Not just observing and collecting, but taking his collection of random facts and applying them, like one would do with an Arithmancy problem.

It was then that he truly realised what she was like. It was then that he realised how much alike they were.

And sometime around his sixth year, he noticed that what seemed like her carefree, lovable demeanour was a carefully crafted shell; a façade to cover up a year’s worth of psychological and emotional damage that had gone to seed. Within that moment, he felt the insatiable urge to protect her from danger. To be able to wrap his arms around her slight frame and somehow his embrace alone would shield her from the dangers of the worlds around her.

In short, he wanted to be the hero that would succeed, whereas the other one had failed.

But that was the thing; he wasn’t considered a hero, if only by a select few. Yet he continued to hope. Hope that her loveless story would somehow include him.

So until that day came, he continued to watch; never keeping his eyes off of her.

* * * * * * * * *

And so time passed and he eventually forgot all about her.

Time having its predictable patterns, storing away memories until they are triggered back into consciousness.

Such was the case with his memories of her.

This time, though, they were triggered by something as simple as a chance meeting with her.

Upon seeing her, he was bombarded with his collection of observations, his emotions, anything related to her.

And it filled him with an ache and need unlike one he couldn’t comprehend.

He wasn’t sure how, exactly, but he had a feeling that his emotions became a garbled mess around her and all formal breeding he learned was thrown out the window when he came face to face with her.

Was it love?

He sure as hell hoped not or else his company would be screwed.

Yet he was able to make it through with only a few embarrassing moments to his credit.

And with a handshake she was gone.

So he resorted back to his old habit: he watched her.

* * * * * * * * *

She had a feeling something was wrong when the man she was meeting to discuss a business proposal with, normally a slightly calm and aloof man, kept stuttering every time she made eye contact with him.

Was there something wrong with him? With her?

And although she didn’t come off as behaving as such, she was nervous.

After all, this was the man that she had observed for the better part of twelve years.

To say that she was obsessed would be too much. Yes, she did observe him, but from a distance and she only came in contact with him if absolutely necessary.

Other than that, her present observations were strictly limited to second glances, mentions in the media, and the previous observations she had collected while attending school with him.

But that fateful business meeting was more than she could handle, could tolerate. Yet she forced herself to go through with it; her pre-emptive pep talk preparing her for the task at hand.

And after their meeting was over, she was able to relax as she walked to the door. She relaxed, but not before noticing something in his facial features. Almost a question, a glimmer of hope or adoration for what, in his mind, can never be.

She wondered if he saw the same thing in her eyes. She hoped he did.

Upon walking out of his office building, she realised something, much like he did some six years ago: she never did loathe him.

Her realisation was more like an epiphany, as if coming to grips with her emotions.

And it felt good. It was nice to know that she was separate from the pack.

In fact, if she allowed herself to accept her true emotions, she might even love him.

It’d never work, though, she thought, entering her small London flat.

So she went back to doing what she did best when it came to him: she observed.

* * * * * * * * *

A few months had passed since their business meeting and he found himself pacing in front of the door to her flat.

In those few months he had been able to sort out his feelings and he finally acknowledged them: he was in love with her.

So here he was, attempting to confront her with his feelings, regardless of what the consequences may be.

Yet, he found that his confidence was dwindling; something that had never happened before.

One of the many effects she had on him.

He took a deep breath. In. Out.

He knocked on the door.

* * * * * * * * *

Again she was stricken with a bout of nervousness.

He had that effect on her.

For a whole she had contemplated confronting him with her feelings, but every time she tried to, she fell short.

But today was the day. Today she was committed to telling him come hell or high water.

For the past week she had prepared herself mentally and emotionally and today she felt she was ready.

Making a quick stop in her bedroom, she grabbed her cloak before hearing a knock on the front door.

Putting on said cloak, she raced to the door, wondering who it could be.

* * * * * * * * *

The door opened to reveal her, cloak on, looking as though she was about to leave.

His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her and her beauty.

She almost looked shocked or pleased; he couldn’t tell which one.

A few moments passed before he attempted to speak.

* * * * * * * * *

She opened the door only to see him standing in front of her.

To say that she was shocked would be an understatement. She was nonetheless pleased.

It was then that he acknowledged her.

“Hello, Ginny.”

To which she replied, “Hello, Draco.”

* * * * * * * * *

“The Blower’s Daughter”

And so it is
Just like you said it would be
Life goes easy on me
Most of the time

And so it is
The shorter story
No love, no glory
No hero in her sky

I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes...

And so it is
Just like you said it should be
We'll both forget the breeze
Most of the time

And so it is
The colder water
The blower's daughter
The pupil in denial

I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes...

Did I say that I loathe you?
Did I say that I want to
Leave it all behind?

I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind...
My mind...
My mind...

'Til I find somebody new

-Damien Rice



A/N- Thanks to Angel, my splendiferous beta. Please read and review if you see fit to do so. Thanks for reading!