Know That I Can't

Know That I Can't

Prologue

It was a distant memory, but I remembered it quite well considering all the time that had passed. I remembered everything about her, from the vivid red of her hair to the sweet smile on her delicate pink lips. I remembered her slender figure and the way my arms wrapped perfectly around her. Most of all, I remembered how each kiss she gave me was full of love and passion. She tasted like vanilla, and she always said that I tasted like peppermint. That's why I always carry around vanilla mints in my pocket.

I remember how every moment I was away from her, I couldn't bear waiting until I could wrap my arms around her perfect figure once again. It's still that way, but I have to teach myself to ignore the pain I get from looking at her picture. Whenever I see something red, I remember running my fingers through her fiery red hair. When I see something brown, I remember the soft brown of her mystifying eyes. At first, I remember, I cried nonstop, but now only certain things bring back those unforgettable memories.

I remember the way her name tickled across my lips when I said it, and the countless nicknames I gave to her. I remember how, at first, it was hard learning to call her by her given name rather than what had been the only name I knew her by: Weasley, or Weaslette.

Sometimes, locked in her arms during cold nights, I whispered to her and her soft hair would rush across my skin and cheeks. She always ran her fingers through my hair and moaned softly about how she wished her hair was like that. I wish I could tell her that her - our - daughter has hair just like hers. Her eyes match my once cool grey ones, but the color in mine has faded, washed away.

There was always someone in the way of our relationship, even in the beginning. At first Potter - no, I have to call him Harry - tried to interfere. He tried to convince her that she was too good for me. Oh, and she was. I remember his words and how they hurt me so badly when all I wanted was to be accepted by her friends. (I can't even say her name, now, because it pains me so.) But Harry, his words always felt so painful, and I couldn't resist them with a witty remark after you-know-who-I-mean-but-I-can't-say-her-name and told me to get along with him. It was hard - the words came so easily to me and I had to choke them back. But over time I trained myself to resist his remarks and, eventually, they all accepted me.

I can't seem to fall asleep anymore, without her lying there with her arms wrapped around me, squeezing me tight in her tight grip. I never protested to how tight she was holding me, even though it hurt sometimes. She always needed me.

Oh, Ginny...

I wish that I could see you again

Know that I can't

This is what happened...