Emerald Eyes

Emerald Eyes, Part One

Fighting the elements, young Ginny Weasley pushed open the massive doors leading out to the school grounds and slipped through before the wind snapped them shut again.
Gathering her cloak close, she followed a path that led down to the water's edge. Nearby, the Forbidden Forest seemed to be creaking in the wind, moving rhythmically from one side to the other, like it was one gigantic tree and not the forest it truly was. The vast lake that stretched out before her was in a tumbling uproar, and no living creature dared venture to its foaming surface.
Turning sharply Ginny continued on the well-trodden path that ran alongside the lake. The wind was pounding mercilessly, groping at any loose pieces of fabric, clawing desperately with icy fingers. But as she continued on the path bushy trees appeared along the waters-edge, keeping her relatively shielded.
Over twenty years earlier another freckled redhead had attended Hogwarts. She shared many similarities with Ginny. Besides a burning temper, as often is associated with redheads, they were both bright witches with pretty figures concealed under dark school robes. But peering through this shell of similarities you could find distinct differences. While Ginny was embraced by an enormous family, having six older brothers defending her intentions, the redhead twenty years her senior had been somewhat of an outcast within her family, standing alone with her magical abilities. In their own ways they were both loners. Though enjoying the company of others, they would both crave the comfort only solidarity could give them. They were similar souls, but twenty years and countless happenings had kept the two apart.
And now Ginny was treading her footsteps.
A stormy day, two decades or so previous, that young girl had followed the path of the lake. And, as with Ginny, her mind had been pondering the mystery of a tall, messy-haired, bespectacled quidditch player. And as Ginny struggled through whipping winds and playful autumn leaves, the school and it's grounds remembered both girls and both moments as one, two girls treading each other's footsteps.
And all that told them apart was emerald eyes.

Emerald Eyes, part two

While the wind was roaring outside, Harry Potter was sitting beside a wide tower window warmed by a roaring fire. Clad in grey trousers and a green Weasley jumper, he was casually leaning against one side of the window. His back was against the fire-heated stone and his forehead was against the icy glass window. Though his body looked relaxed, his eyes were as active as ever. It was as if all his other senses had been sealed shut for the day, and all that mattered was what he could see.
His eyes were slowly moving across the grounds outside, following the path of a young redheaded girl as she battled the elements. She was the only one who could keep him calm, as he was sitting there watching her she was all that truly mattered. No dark nightmares came creeping back trying to claim his attention, even though they usually would. No haunting memories shone as a muggle slide show in front of his eyes, like they usually did whenever he let his mind wander like he did now. It was all because of her. She claimed all of his attention. And that was unfamiliar. But not uncomfortable, he decided.
An old painting not far away knew something that Harry did not. He had been hanging on that particular wall for centuries, and had not failed to notice the similarity between this moment and a memory from twenty years or so previous. That year, another boy had been glued to the exact same window, tracing the path of a young girl. His hair had been tousled like Harry's, his body had been built by quidditch like Harry's, and his shoulders had been straining from their early weight-load just like Harry's.
And this moment seemed to the painting to be frozen in time as these two boys and their confused minds were focused upon their very special, though sometimes troublesome, redhead. How similar these two boys were, the painting thought, trapped in this moment
stretched across time.
And all that told them apart was emerald eyes.

Emerald Eyes, Part Three

Ginny Weasley was in the arms of Harry Potter, her arms around his neck and her head on his shoulder. Silent tears were falling from her eyes. He hugged her close, knowing that he never wanted to let her go. He stood there, smelling her hair, feeling her warmth, hearing her heart beat wildly, realising desperately that he would have to let her go eventually. So he held on to this moment for what it was worth, never knowing when he would have the fortune to hold her again. Every fibre of his body was memorising the feel of her; how her soft hair felt against his fingers, how her heartbeat hammered against his, how her eyelashes swept across his skin. And she was memorising him; the desperate love in his clutch, the particular scent that was all him, the perfect fit of herself against him.
And in this moment they were clinging to each other desperately, like anyone would cling to a piece of floating wood in the open sea.
And through it all they were oblivious to the happenings around them.
But the teacher who came to a halt as she looked upon them was aware of everything, even of a past memory when a young couple she had known had been clinging to each other in their moment of dire need. She had worn the fire upon her shoulders as proudly as Ginny, and he had stood solid with his ruffled jet-black hair, just like Harry.
And as though twenty years had never passed, the two images blended together before the teachers eyes, and two couples became one as they leaned on each other in their single moment of desperate fear, showing true love and passion in a lasting embrace.
And both girls lifted their heads from the shoulders of their men, and brought each a trembling hand to his face. And two pairs of lips met twice across the years, and two couples stood united together.
And all that told them apart was emerald eyes.