The Reverse Heartbreaker

Her fingers were starting to hurt, and the wetness of the bar was making holding onto it an even more difficult task. But she wasn't letting go. She was hanging two feet from the ground, swinging back and forth repeatedly. With each swing her legs pumped her body harder.

Because it was raining today, no one else was outside to visit this park. But she didn't really mind the rain. She liked how it soaked into her hair, making it heavy and dark. And she liked the sting on her skin as the icy raindrops pelted her skimpily dressed body.

It was a simple task really; swinging from the monkey bars. All she had to do was concentrate on pumping her legs, keeping her hold on the bar, and, of course, not thinking about him.

All of these things she could do quite well. Except one: not thinking about him. Because not thinking about him was easier said than done. Everything she did reminded her of him. Even now, as she watched her bare legs moving, bending gracefully at the knee; propelling her body forward, her thin violet skirt drenched and clinging to her thighs, she thought of him. Of his warm rough hands roaming over her excited skin, his pale hair loose and falling over his eyes. And those eyes, the way those beautiful gray-blue eyes lit up when he saw her, like she really was what he often called her: his angel...

No--she had to stop it. They could never love each other freely. They tried that, and now...with what everybody's been saying...what she did was for the best.

The rain was quickly letting up. She let go of the bar and landed heavily on her feet. She rubbed her aching hands together and sighed, eyes welling with tears as she remembered what people have been saying to her in the past few weeks.

Everybody; her friends, her family, even the portraits...they all told her that their relationship would never work. All her brothers said that he was evil, a death eater in training, that she was too good for him. The Slytherin portraits and the other Slytherins sneered that she was scum compared to him, a blood traitor, that he could do so much better than her.

She tried to ignore them, she really did. She tried to make herself better; tame her hair, wear more make-up, practice to improve her Quidditch and social skills daily. He acknowledged these changes with concern, and told her she didn't have to change for him, but she wanted to; she wanted to be better for him, she wanted to be more than just okay.

But nothing changed; everybody still looked down on their relationship.

The pressure had been weighing down on her to ditch him. She wanted to end this emotional torture. She wanted her friends and family to like the person she loved. And, against her usual stubborn Weasley judgment, she did what she had to do; this morning before their trip to Hogsmeade, and she ran before he could produce a proper reaction. Somehow she ended up here, far away, to this silly little playground. And despite the good reactions she knew she'd receive from her friends and family, she felt horrible.

God; everything was falling apart.

Hot tears slid down her cheeks. She moved back to lean against the metal ladder, her arm stretched out behind her, searching clumsily for it. But instead of feeling the slippery metal, her hand collided with another, larger, hand, which gently brushed hers away, and a pair of strong warm arms encircled her.

It was him. He pulled her against his chest and rested his chin against her neck.

"I thought you might not mean it." He breathed in her ear.

She squeezed her eyes shut briefly, then started struggling to get away, but his grip tightened, and after a moment, she sagged into him, sobbing uncontrollably. He hugged her close.

"What you did this morning wasn't very nice," he said softly.

When she finally regained some composure she said, "I can't do this anymore, Draco." She turned to face him. "Everybody's saying how I can't--" She choked again, shutting her eyes and dipping her chin to her chest. His hand brushed her cheek, he lifted her chin again, making her meet his eyes. He looked pained now. "Do you really want to break up?" he asked.

Slowly, she shook her head, tears still flowing. "I love you." She nearly whined.

He kissed her lightly. "I know, I love you too."

She became engulfed in sobs once again and clung to him.....

He held her close. "Gin."

She sniffed. "What?"

He shook his head. "No, I mean..." He nudged her and she moved aside so he could reach into his robes.

He extracted a leather flask and held it out for her to see. "Gin," he said. "What do you say we have a fun night tonight? Forget everyone else?"

She averted her eyes; ashamed. But he merely shook his head at her in quiet reassurance and waved the flask under her nose suggestively.

She looked from the flask to him and back again. Then she smiled a weak, watery smile at him and took his hand, leading him away from the playground and in the direction of Hogwarts.

"Let's go," she whispered...