11Fluff, I apologise, I needed to get some fluff out of my system so here you go my little chickens.
It's Ron's point of view, I'd say there about 24, and it's set in Ottery St Catchpole.
Disclaimer: don't own, well I sort of own the email that this spawned from so inspiration goes to pockets. The characters ect are all jk Rowling's , cause she's wonderful and created Ron Weasley to make me happy.
The rain smashed heavily as she clung to the umbrella, I watched as the tears leaked down her perfect features, they may be scarred, and remnants of a long over battle that left not only outwards scars. Her eyes glistened as they turned to me eyes scared and just as scared as the wind blown cheeks that the tears leaked over running past her memories implanted on her skin like unwanted mementos, a mark for every friend lost, every family member mourned.
Her dark hair blows in the light wind rolling from the hills, along the ravines and in to the hollow cold of the train station. She is breathtaking, an angel amongst demons, sent out to protect me. Sent to me to make everything all right, but how can I tell her everything I have wanted.
She looks down as I advance on her, another lost in the world of hurt that has followed us since the night that the world turned black.
Sleepless nights, revisiting nightmares of the living, nightmares that walk, talk, and serve the dark mark. The war was over, but for some …for us it was just beginning, an inner war that never rests, like a prowling animal biding it's time till it turns vicious , striking with pinpoint accuracy and poisoning the one thing you need most.
I have watched her; I have smelt her, once I could recall every single detail of the perfectly formed hazel eyes that would flicker by the light of the open fire, looks I loved lost to an empty shell.
She sniffs, drawing her cloak closer to her, she looks away shielding herself from me, from words she wishes I had said before, before this happened. Before leaving, was the last option, to dissolve a friendship that could no longer function because its components were damaged, destroyed by doubt and irrational thought.
I reach out and she steps away, my hand meets empty air, it slips through my fingers as I hold the last remaining hope I have, so close yet so far.
Her eyes find mine for a second, her tears falling gently again.
If I could be anything I would be her tears, to understand her emotions, to be formed in her heart, to pass on to her cheeks when she felt the world should share, and to die on the lips that I have longed to hear whisper my name late in the night as I hold her in my arms.
She looks away, muttering my name under the thunder that rolls down the valley.
I reach out again wanting nothing more than to fill the spaces between her fingers with that of my own.
She makes to back away again but stops, allowing me to stand beside her, the rain falling around us whitest we stand in our umbrella shaped cocoon, for a moment impenetrable to the outside world.
Then she turns to me.
"Do you think I'm pretty?" I shake my head, I answer no.
The look in her eyes dims as lightning flashes in the distance, her hair beginning to frizz at the ends as the rain rolls down the plastic and collides with the carefully curled locks.
"Do you want to be with me forever?" she asks the tears she cried now dried as hatred begins filling the eyes that had momentarily been full of love. Again, I shake my head she backs away.
"Would you cry if I walked away, if I got on this train and never came back?" she asks the umbrella now discarded as the rain-washes away any trace of the feelings that I know she holds for me.
Again, I shake my head, I watch as she turns to leave. The wind blowing her umbrella inside out as she storms down the wind lashed station. As the train sounded in the distance, I make my move I run after her grabbing her by the arm, earning myself a smack with a broken umbrella.
"Stay." I say almost not recognising my own voice, the broken umbrella falls from her hand on to the weed cracked concrete, her eyes search mine as I finally find the words I've longed to say to her.
"You're not pretty, you're beautiful." I say running one hand across her scarred face. "I don't want to be with you forever, I need to be with you forever." I say pushing the wet hair from my face so I can see her reaction to the way I really feel. "I wouldn't cry if you walked away, I would die."
The silence around us was deafening, even the thunder seamed to halt or maybe it was just time standing still.
The tears, return to her eyes. Her body shaking as she falls in to my arms. She relaxes the grip on her cloak dropping with it the two roses that I left her this morning. We watch as the ink washes away the words written in my untidy scrawl, I lift the rose and hand it to her, her hand shaking.
"To the woman I love." I say quietly.
I lift the other kissing the rain-drenched petals and handing them to her.
"To my best friend." I whisper as I hold her close.
The thunder begins to role again and the darkness creeps back over the valley. Her wet hair clinging to my neck as the train pulls in beside us, her tears soaking in to my already drenched shirt. I close my eyes holding her tight, scared that when I open them she may not be here.
A whistle sounds and pistons fire, steam engulfs me as I cling on to her as if my very soul depended on it.
I should have known, I should have guessed.
She may be a woman of books and words, but some words were created to be spoken.
"I love you." she whispers as the train pulls away. I relax my grip as she smiles at me her face trembling as I run my finger along the tracks of her tears.
"I know."