One Last Sweet Lie

One Last Sweet Lie

Cause you will be somebody's girl

And you will keep each other warm

But tonight, I am feeling cold

--Dashboard Confessional “The Secret's in the Telling”

Ginny leaned against the tree eyes closed, feeling the soft night air brush against her skin. She was wearing a worn and faded cotton blue skirt that was up to mid-thigh, a pair of sandals and a light tank top. The only source of warmth she had was the soft blue Weasley sweater that lay on top of her lap. She didn't care; she liked the cold air, even if it made her shiver at times. Ginny's lips quirked into a smile knowing full-well what her mother would say.

What are you thinking Ginny? It's freezing! Put on that sweater before you catch a cold. If you catch a cold it will be entirely your fault and don't ask me to feel sympathy for you!

That would be if her mother paid attention to those things anymore.

With the war going on, all anyone paid attention to was the most recent death. It was as if people didn't exist until they died. Even Harry was forgotten. He had stormed off after the wedding with Ron and Hermione, determined to go off and find all the Horcruxes. On his mission to destroy Voldemort and now, it was as if the three had died. No one mentioned them, which she took as a good sign. If they were ever mentioned again it could only mean one of two things: they were back or they were dead.

Ginny didn't find either favorable. If they did come back, then death would greet them for surely the trio would storm off to kill the cause of this war once and for all. Ginny wasn't naïve, she knew what would happen - what did happen in war. Not everyone lived, someone, at least one person, always died and it would be foolish to think the deaths would all be on the other side.

She didn't even want someone to die on the other side. She didn't want anyone to die. But it was war and in war sacrifices and death were a common thing.

She squeezed her eyes tight not letting any of the tears that were threatening to drop fall out. She hated crying. She had cried too many times tonight. Too many times all summer. Too many times this lifetime. She sat like that for awhile, thinking of the war of the deaths of everything that was and shouldn't be; the trees rustled in the wind and not a bird was heard, it was as if nature was shifting to her mood. Just like she shed not one tear, the grey clouds heavy with water didn't spill one drop.

The crunch of leaves close to her pulled her from her thoughts. She didn't open her eyes, but her shoulders tensed in apprehension waiting until he was sitting beside her.

Draco watched her from his secluded spot. It wounded him that she seemed so truly lost. Her fiery red hair cascaded down her back betraying the image she was trying to convey. She looked calm and put together, at peace, but her hair was a mess of tangles, as if she hand bothered to comb it. It exhibited how he knew she felt: devoid of all hope.

He needed to end it. Draco knew that. He was being selfish by trying to keep what they had alive, it wouldn't serve either of them any purpose. After all, it was but a lie.

He sighed and approached her knowing that today would have to be the day he gave it all up. It disappointed him a little, deep down that he was willing to give up something he wanted, needed perhaps, for her. He was putting someone before himself. It made him think that he was doing something preposterous; he had only ever thought about himself.

Well, and perhaps his mother.

He watched her shoulders square a bit, she knew he was there. Draco said nothing, but sat beside her, his body so close to hers he could feel sparks flying in that empty space. He wanted to close it, but he'd made a resolve to make it end and absolving the empty space would only continue the lie.

She was thinking. That much was obvious. Whenever she began to think her brow crinkled a bit; it was so subtle one wouldn't notice unless they'd watched her for awhile. He had watched her. She shivered slightly. Draco for the first time took in her attire. She was wearing a small tiny shirt that barely offered any cover let alone warmth and old long since tattered skirt that should have been disposed of ages ago. She had a sweater, but had it resting across her lap. He smiled softly; he thought fleetingly about telling her to put on the sweater but decided against it. She wouldn't listen to him and she looked quite pretty even in those old clothes. He mimicked her position and closed his eyes as well.

He wasn't quite ready to break what they had just yet. He needed to breathe.

Breathe just a little.

It was all so stupid. He hated everything. Hated his life, his possessions; hated himself, he even hated her a little bit. She was so pretty and honest and accepting, didn't she know that was unfair? Didn't she know that being all that, to anyone - especially him, would only make things worse? Draco wanted horribly to blame it all on the war. Blame everything on the war, from his actions, to his parents, to the state of her feelings. But that wasn't right. The war was a product of man and everything he did, everything his parents did was self-induced. As for her feelings, well, that wasn't only a product of the war it was a product of the people fighting in it and each was responsible for themselves. It was pitiful, for once in his life, Draco wanted Potter to come back and swoop in taking what he wanted. Not because he didn't want her anymore; he wanted her more than anything, but it wasn't right. And if Potter came in taking it, he wouldn't have to feel as if he took something necessary - from both of them; he could just feel that it was taken from him alone. He could just feel that it was fate damning him again.

But really, this was fate too. Only now fate was forcing him to do it.

“Ginny,” he began.

“Hold on.” She whispered. “Give me just a second.”

He did. Draco opened his eyes and watched her. She was breathing evenly, the moonlight struck her pale face just right, illuminating each one of her infernal freckles. Those freckles would haunt him until he died. He could only hope that that would be soon. She opened her eyes. “Okay.” She whispered.

He melted. Her eyes. If her freckles would haunt him, her eyes would be the death of him. They reminded him of chocolate. Soft warm, delicious chocolate. He would never be able to eat it again. How he hated her for doing this to him. He had every intention of telling her this couldn't go on, but found his voice saying something else. “What were you thinking?”

The red head smiled lightly and moved closer to him. Draco felt his skin burn at her touch the way it always did. She lay her head against his shoulder and held his hand in hers. “Death. Changes. The war.”

Draco felt all his resolve die. He couldn't end this. He simply couldn't end this; especially if she absolutely destroyed him with just a touch. It was a simple touch, how could she do this to him without doing anything? He said nothing and she expected nothing. He watched her. As he always did. She was so calm yet always ready to burst; this girl bottled everything up because she didn't want to disturb anyone. “It's okay to cry, you know.”

“I know.”

She did, he supposed, know in a way; but she didn't know how it was something people needed to do, to let it all hang loose.

He needed to end this. It pounded through his mind. It needed to be over, then and only then could he accept the inevitable death that was sure to face him in this war, then he could face the truth and he could try to imagine that nothing had ever changed; that she had never changed him. “This can't go on.”

“Cant we pretend for a little while longer?”

She knew. Of course she knew; she was intelligent. It tore at him. He loved her, deep down Draco knew that, but he could never give her what she needed; she would forever belong someone else and this was only temporary. “This won't work, Ginny, you know that; we are only fooling ourselves by keeping this up.”

“I think you're being selfish.” She whispered.

He raised an eyebrow. “Selfish?”

“Can't you see it? Can't you feel it, Draco? Maybe it's just me, but I feel it and I see it. Even if it won't ever work, I need it. I love you, please let me pretend you love me, just a little while longer.”

Draco felt a huge sadness settle in his chest. She loved him.

Him.

Of course he loved her; how could he not? She was beautiful, she was kind and she was always there, ready to make him feel better without knowing what was wrong. But he couldn't let her know that. If she thought he loved her, she would want him to stay. He would never be able to stay, because it would only hurt her. He could never be the man of her dreams and he could never love her the way she should be loved. She deserved better. If he stayed, it would only harm her; he would be the source of her despair instead of her escape from it.

No, he couldn't let her know. “Even if I did, Ginny, this couldn't go on.”

“Don't say that!” She screamed into his shoulder. “I - you're a part of me now, I couldn't go on if this didn't.”

“Of course you could; you're a Gryffindor. You know, brave and all that rot.”

“It doesn't matter.” She sighed. “I need you.” She moved up and stared at him directly in the eyes. “Please.”

Her lips were so tiny and they looked so vulnerable as they trembled. He'd like to say she was trembling because of the cold, but that couldn't be the only thing. He wanted to tell her. Wanted desperately to tell her he'd stay with her forever. He'd love her forever, but he couldn't do that. He couldn't hurt her that way. “I can't”

“Can't you just,” she sighed batting her eyes a few times to keep the tears from falling, “lie to me once more. Just once.”

He sighed. Why did she have to keep doing that? He was going to break soon. He wanted her so badly.

“Please. You don't have to come back after this. Just lie to me one last time.”

He leaned forward and kissed her. “One last time.” He murmured into her mouth. He wasn't really answering her so much as himself. This would be the last time; he could claim her as his and only his. It was a promise to himself so he wouldn't come looking for her.

Draco didn't know if it was a lie. He didn't know if he was lying to himself and he would come back anyway. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't. Either way, she would never be erased from his memory. Ginny Weasley had done the worst thing anyone could ever do to him. She'd broken him. Made him fall in love; she'd warmed a heart he didn't know he had. A heart he thought he'd long since discarded.

He had her, for one last time that night.

Her eyes were fluttering the way they did when someone was trying to say awake.

“You're sleepy.”

“Only a little.” She mumbled. She leaned against the tree and closed her eyes.

They sat there in silence each lost in their thoughts of the upcoming departure. Draco with heavy regret of having to leave without ever telling her the truth and Ginny with sadness of losing something she believed she never had.

She opened her eyes. “Will you come back tomorrow?” The milky brown chocolate orbs of hers were pleading with him, asking for something he could never give her.

He hesitated. “Yes.”

He would give her that. It was the only thing he could. Just one more lie. A disillusion to make up for the truth he was burning to tell her. If it was the only way he could leave her happy then he would do it.

He could hear her voice drift across the wind.

“You promise?” He eyes shone with a soft hope, but he knew as well as she did that the next sentence was just a lie.

“Yes.” One last sweet lie.

xXxXx

A/N: Okay, so that was my try at a desperate and lost love. I uploaded this fic a while ago on fanfiction.net and I figured I should post here to. Personally I kind of hate this story, mainly because it's all sad, but it just kind of spilled out of me when I was in one of those moods. Maybe it's not as bad as I think it is, but whatever, some people like sad-ish stories, so I guess this is for you.

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