Dragon's Fire

After that, she opened up to me more and more. It wasn't long before I knew everything about her. I strived to make her more important to me than anything else, but when my parents were condemned to Azkaban, she cried with me. I didn't love my father; he could burn in hell for the things he'd done and it still wouldn't be enough. But my mother, she was the one who'd been there when Father had returned from a meeting angry and frustrated. Father used to beat her, until one night when she lay out cold on the floor and still, he continued to hit her, I walked in.

"Don't touch her anymore," I said, anger taking the place of fear.

"Stay out of this, boy. It's what she deserves!" he screamed at me and sent a punch to my mother's jawbone. I heard a sharp crack and knew that it was broken.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" I bellowed loud enough for all the house-elves to hear.

"Do you want to join her?" he asked, an unbelievably cruel mask of hate on his face.

"No. I want you to hit me and leave her alone. No more of this; she won't survive it. Think about it. What will happen when those Ministry officials come in to investigate her death and find that she was beaten to death? Do you really want that on your hands?" I asked pleadingly, appealing to his sense of self-preservation. If I had done anything that I was proud of up to that point, it was definitely this.

"No, I don't want her blood on my hands." He seemed to puzzle over this for a few minutes, and then he was on me. I screamed and cried as punches landed and kicks bruised my body. At least my mother was safe from him. I lay on the floor, bleeding and broken after he left me to go to bed. I raised my head up enough to look at my mother and saw that she was breathing evenly and had probably fallen asleep. That night, my dreams had been filled with flying fists and pain that went beyond the physical.

I related all of this to Ginny, who was shocked and then terrified. Her eyes brimmed with tears and I let her cry on my shoulder. I held her until her sobs quieted and the hiccups faded. Her breathing became deep and even, so I leaned my head against the trunk of "our" tree and fell asleep with her in my arms.

A few weeks had passed when I learned that my mother had died. Ginny did her best to console me, but I often shut her out; seeking alcohol and solitude over warmth and understanding. Stupid choice, I know, but I was in a very dark place then, one I had hoped I'd never visit again.

A few more months went by, and I came out of my shell. I began to embrace life again. My grades improved, slowly moving back up to their honored spots at the top of the class. I was secretly smart, but no one save Ginny and I knew of this. I sought comfort in Ginny and found acceptance and understanding; more than I had dared to hope for. I found that I still loved her, despite all that I had done to push her away. She became my light again, the inspiration for my change. It was she that I loved, and no one else. But no matter how I tried, she still carried a torch for Potter. The jackass had broken her heart to tiny pieces, yet still she yearned for him. How I envied what he left behind! For years, I had coveted Ginny and now that I could step up and claim her, he still held sway over her.