Title: Listening to Jazz

Author: Chosentwo4381

Email: chosentwo4381@yahoo.com

Feedback: Would make me happy. Please tell me, sequel or no?

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Archiving: List sites, the Realm, and ff.net. Anyone else just ask.

Author's Notes: I got this idea listening to Comfortable by John Mayer. You should download it if you don't have it. This is not a song fic. It is slightly angsty. It's set after around the end of Ginny's 7th year I think. This isn't beta'd either. Cause I still don't have one. Any volunteers?

Dedication: To Laura, because she thinks I'm beautiful.


I know you can recognize the handwriting on this letter, not enough time has passed for you not to know who this is from. I just ask that you read it. If not for me, then for the love that we shared. You don't even have to reply, unless you want to, which I doubt you will. But, hear me out. Just let me get this off my chest.

I still think of you, you know. The way your hair shone in the sun, like a curtain of fire that surrounded us as we kissed on spring days down by the lake. I loved the way your lips tasted, like chocolate frogs and the mint tea that we used to get down in the kitchens. But I didn't write this to tell you that.

I'm with someone now; Ron must have told you that. He and Harry like her. They think she'll do me some good. She's great, but she's not what I want. She's a muggle, not that it matters, and she knows about me, and accepts it, but it's weird. She's like Parvati or Lavender with out the divination, and all the giggling about boys. She's religious, and doesn't really approve of me correcting things in the Bible with the way they really happened. She also doesn't approve of the foul mouth that I picked up from your brother and the rest of the auror squad. The whole thing just makes me think.

I miss you Gin. I'm not really sure what happened between us, but I still love you. I keep remembering things, like the time we got kicked out of Madame Malkin's in Diagon Alley for behaving inappropriately in the dressing room. And some of the things that came out of your mouth could make sailors blush. Now that I think of it, they did. Remember that cruise with me and my parents before my 7th year?

By all accounts she's perfect. She fits in at all the state functions that we have to go to. That's what I get for being one of the best friends of the guy that defeated Voldemort, and for capturing a lot of death eaters myself. Darned Gryffindor bravery. She's an artist by profession. She paints these beautiful portraits. But they just make me think of you, wondering how you would look on canvas. Questioning. Could anyone ever capture the way your eyes gleam, even when it's dim?

I need you in my life. She's by my side, posing at all these events, looking perfectly manicured and coiffed, and all I can think about is you, and how I loved the way you looked when you woke up; sexily mussed, yet so adorably grouchy until you got your morning cup of coffee. But my favorite memories are of you after we started going through my dad's collection of music, after you got over your amazement at CDs, you fell in love with jazz. Billie Holliday, Duke Ellington, all of the greats. You even liked Kenny G, which bothered me a bit. But your favorites were Miles Davis and John Coltrane. I've got that Coltrane CD playing as I write this. I listen to it everyday. Elise, that's her name, tried to buy me a different CD because I play this one so much. It's Miles. I listen to it sometimes, to make her happy, but I think she suspects that it's more than just music behind my fascination. Ron and Harry won't tell her, but by the looks on their faces I can tell that they know why and don't approve at all.

I can't explain to them that I want someone that knows me, can tell what I'm thinking just by the way I hold my quill, or how I tuck my hair behind my ear. They think I'm picky, 'Elise is a wonderful woman' they say. 'She's beautiful, smart, and she dotes on you' they try to tell me. She's flawless, except she's not. She's not who I'm in love with.

I've kept you for too long. I know that you probably won't respond to this, but I had let you know how I felt, though I know it won't change a thing. I do love you, Gin, more than anything.


I Can't Listen to Jazz Anymore


Harry Potter

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