: Harry Potter and all related characters are the creations of J. K. Rowling, which is not my name. I wish it was, cause then I'd be rich, but hey....
Author's Notes: This has been sitting in my computer for like....ever. I think it was originally an entry for timeturner's Mundane challenge or something....and I never posted it, probably because I thought it no good. It's my shot at a description-focused fic, and I must admit that it
isn't very good, but I'm not so disgusted with it to leave it unposted any longer. Besides, it's proof I've written something in the present timeline and Ginny/Harry.
BTW, this was written pre-DH, and although I may re-write this one day, for now it's going up as-is, which is no longer canonical. Yeah...
Ginny watched as the lightning danced across the night sky. It would appear one place in the blink of an eye, and for a moment you might think that it wasn’t ever there until you saw it flash in an entirely different spot in the sky as if it were dodging curses.
And then there was the thunder that accompanied it. Sometimes it sounded like a roaring lion, frustrated at not being able to devour its prey. Other times it sounded more like a gloating clap.
And then there was the rain, falling in grief and affecting everything it touched in some way. It made little kids miserable at not being able to play outside, and it made creatures of all kind run from its uncontrollable path. People always seemed to fear it, though it brought little true harm and was necessary for survival.
The fierce wind blew the treetops one way, and then would swirl around, making a mini-tornado out of stray leaves before releasing its grip and letting the leaves fly where they would.
In a way, the entire storm was reminiscent of her life.
The wind seemed to be the very epitome of human emotion. It was unseen and only made an occasional whistle every now and then. The only way you knew it even existed was the effect it had on whatever it met. The way it would blow everything that stood in its path as if it were some sort of Muggle bomb wanting to destroy, to create chaos was so similar to jealousy, hatred, sadness, anger, and even passion. And then there were times when the wind brought peace of mind and relief to a person similar to the feeling of the warmth of love, whether it would be from family, friends, or even…
Ginny swallowed, not wanting to continue those particular thoughts just yet. She diverted her attention back to the lightning that was so beautiful, illuminating the night sky with a different perspective than light from the sun or moon ever could.
And yet, as beautiful as the dancing lightning was, it was so destructive. You never knew where it would strike next, and if it struck you, you were usually a goner. Even magic could sparsely help a lightning-struck individual. If you survived an encounter with lightning, the memory would definitely not escape, and the damage would always be there in some form.
Ginny compared this to romantic love. Always dodging you when you wanted it around and then hitting you when you least expect it, and never leaving you unscathed.
It also reminded her of who it was she
loved. The shape of the lightning in the sky instantly reminded her of Harry’s scar, given to him the night lightning really struck his life. He never could remember that night, but would always carry it with him.
He also would never leave her. He might be gone, but he was would always be with her…
She had never really had him completely, though. She had longed for him for years, but evaded her for so long, thanks to the beauty that was Cho Chang. And then finally she caught him, but in a few short weeks their bliss ended.
And then again he dodged her. Every time she saw him he was just as easy to love as the time before, but was hers only for a few seconds before disappearing and then showing up again somewhere else.
The thunder…a surge of anger hit her as she thought of Voldemort. He roared, like it did, sometimes in anger and sometimes in triumph.
The way Harry evaded him and was always a step ahead was the anger; the fact that Harry didn’t manage to completely destroy him was the victory.
Oh, Voldemort was no longer able to perform magic, but his followers still remained, and since he was afraid of death he was now a ghost. Being a ghost wouldn’t destroy his influence among the living, even if the Ministry did manage to confine him somehow.
And Harry was gone. He took down most of Voldemort’s power with him, but he also took himself, before they could ever truly happy.
And then there was the rain, falling faster than even her tears and causing a sadness that affected everything. Who was ever happy during a storm?
The storm would end, and would be just another forgotten thing that happened. The rain would give life to plants, and the dreariness would go away.
But what good could come from the storm in her life? How was she ever to go on, without ever seeing Harry again, without ever being able to hold him again…?
And what would become of his memory? Would he become just another forgotten storm that happened? Sure, his name would be remembered, but would he
be remembered? Would people in a hundred year’s time ever know of how he was treated at the Dursley’s, his favorite food, how he loved Quidditch, and how he had loved her
Their entire relationship was like a storm. Like the rain that fell. It gave life, it was somewhat scary at times, and it was gone before you even realized the affect it had.
She made a promise to herself, whilst watching the rain drizzled lightly, the storm beginning to leave: she’d never, ever, take a storm of any kind for granted again. She’d treasure every moment, every person, every raindrop that came along. And when lightning struck, then maybe she’d be able to handle it.