Prologue - A New Beginning
I sat down on my bed and let the tears wash over my face as I slowly rocked back and forth reliving each memory that I had stored of us together. I saw us eating ice cream on the chair swing in our back yard, playing quidditch against my brothers and not caring if we lost, cuddling up together in front of the fire at Grimauld Place and enjoying each other, sharing one passionate kiss after another, and him telling me that he would never let me go. Well, that day, he let me go; Harry Potter broke up with me.
I know you're probably wondering why I'm crying over this; I was over him right? And besides, I was going out with Dean Thomas at the end of last year. Well, not long after school ended, I got an owl with a letter tied to its leg. I could tell it was from Dean by his handwriting. Big deal right? I opened it, and whom could it be addressed to but 'Chantale'? At first I thought it might have been some cousin or something, but the content wasn't really meant for someone of that sort. I owled him and told him it was over. To my disappointment, however, he wrote nothing back. I guess he must've been satisfied with our break up as it was, and to him, that was that.
Well, to my great surprise, I didn't cry, but I did confide to Hermione about it. Of course, Hermione being whom she is told Harry and Ron. Ron in turn told Fred and George, who in turn told my parents and that was how my whole family got to know about my oh so tragic beak up with Dean. A week after this happened, Harry came up to me and bravely asked me to be his girlfriend. Weak as it sounds, I was consumed by that old fire that used to burn in my heart for him. We were together as a couple all through the summer months and my mother was so happy, she almost cried.
That day, that accursed day, one week before our return to Hogwarts, Harry decided to break up with me. I wasn't really sure what made him do it; maybe he got bored with me. Every morning that week I told myself that it was because I wasn't good enough for him. But then I asked myself, why would he have picked me in the first place? Pity. The word loomed up before my eyes and I saw that tragic look upon Harry's perfect features. The fact of the matter is that the end of our relationship was so devastating for me, I thought that I would never be able to pull through.
I refused to tell anyone what had happened. It wasn't because of Harry that I kept my mouth shut, it was because of me. I knew that I wouldn't be able to deal with everyone else's pity on top of my own. Not only that, but knowing my brothers, they would stop talking to Harry thinking that that would make me feel better. On the contrary, it would have made me feel worse.
The family, plus Hermione, did find it a little odd that I stayed cooped up in my room all day that day, but Harry told them that I wasn't feeling well; and indeed I had been getting paler and thinner despite my huge appetite and my ongoing relationship with Harry. They bought the story, and left me in peace the whole day, unaware of how much grief I was in.
When I did finally decide to come out of my room the next day, I was paler than usual, my eyes were bloodshot from crying and my nose red from blowing it so much. I quickly washed my face and changed, but no matter how good I looked on the outside, I felt torn up inside. I had a horrible feeling in my stomach as I descended the stairs, knowing that I would have to play along with our little game of deceit with Harry, at least until the time came to leave home.
No matter how hard I tried, the family seemed to sense a separation between us. I really couldn't help feeling distant from Harry, even as I cuddled up to him on the couch like we had done so many times before. When the family seemed to notice again this separation, I told them it was probably because I still wasn't feeling good.
Now, one week later, aboard the Hogwarts Express, I can't help but sigh and smile, for I feel a new, and strange I must admit, sense of freedom that I hadn't felt at home. I feel that I can start again, turn over a new leaf in my life, and start a new chapter in my story. Now I can begin again, with the knowledge that life isn't perfect; it isn't a dream world. I can arm myself against this cruel and merciless world, and make it through the darkness that seemed to envelop me at the Burrow.
I, Ginny Weasley, shall start anew.
I sat down on my bed and let the tears wash over my face as I slowly rocked back and forth reliving each memory that I had stored of us together. I saw us eating ice cream on the chair swing in our back yard, playing quidditch against my brothers and not caring if we lost, cuddling up together in front of the fire at Grimauld Place and enjoying each other, sharing one passionate kiss after another, and him telling me that he would never let me go. Well, that day, he let me go; Harry Potter broke up with me.
I know you're probably wondering why I'm crying over this; I was over him right? And besides, I was going out with Dean Thomas at the end of last year. Well, not long after school ended, I got an owl with a letter tied to its leg. I could tell it was from Dean by his handwriting. Big deal right? I opened it, and whom could it be addressed to but 'Chantale'? At first I thought it might have been some cousin or something, but the content wasn't really meant for someone of that sort. I owled him and told him it was over. To my disappointment, however, he wrote nothing back. I guess he must've been satisfied with our break up as it was, and to him, that was that.
Well, to my great surprise, I didn't cry, but I did confide to Hermione about it. Of course, Hermione being whom she is told Harry and Ron. Ron in turn told Fred and George, who in turn told my parents and that was how my whole family got to know about my oh so tragic beak up with Dean. A week after this happened, Harry came up to me and bravely asked me to be his girlfriend. Weak as it sounds, I was consumed by that old fire that used to burn in my heart for him. We were together as a couple all through the summer months and my mother was so happy, she almost cried.
That day, that accursed day, one week before our return to Hogwarts, Harry decided to break up with me. I wasn't really sure what made him do it; maybe he got bored with me. Every morning that week I told myself that it was because I wasn't good enough for him. But then I asked myself, why would he have picked me in the first place? Pity. The word loomed up before my eyes and I saw that tragic look upon Harry's perfect features. The fact of the matter is that the end of our relationship was so devastating for me, I thought that I would never be able to pull through.
I refused to tell anyone what had happened. It wasn't because of Harry that I kept my mouth shut, it was because of me. I knew that I wouldn't be able to deal with everyone else's pity on top of my own. Not only that, but knowing my brothers, they would stop talking to Harry thinking that that would make me feel better. On the contrary, it would have made me feel worse.
The family, plus Hermione, did find it a little odd that I stayed cooped up in my room all day that day, but Harry told them that I wasn't feeling well; and indeed I had been getting paler and thinner despite my huge appetite and my ongoing relationship with Harry. They bought the story, and left me in peace the whole day, unaware of how much grief I was in.
When I did finally decide to come out of my room the next day, I was paler than usual, my eyes were bloodshot from crying and my nose red from blowing it so much. I quickly washed my face and changed, but no matter how good I looked on the outside, I felt torn up inside. I had a horrible feeling in my stomach as I descended the stairs, knowing that I would have to play along with our little game of deceit with Harry, at least until the time came to leave home.
No matter how hard I tried, the family seemed to sense a separation between us. I really couldn't help feeling distant from Harry, even as I cuddled up to him on the couch like we had done so many times before. When the family seemed to notice again this separation, I told them it was probably because I still wasn't feeling good.
Now, one week later, aboard the Hogwarts Express, I can't help but sigh and smile, for I feel a new, and strange I must admit, sense of freedom that I hadn't felt at home. I feel that I can start again, turn over a new leaf in my life, and start a new chapter in my story. Now I can begin again, with the knowledge that life isn't perfect; it isn't a dream world. I can arm myself against this cruel and merciless world, and make it through the darkness that seemed to envelop me at the Burrow.
I, Ginny Weasley, shall start anew.