Disclaimer: I own nothing. Cover art is by corlyiris on deviantart.
Once upon a time, in a magical world, there was a girl named Ginny Weasley who believed in fairytales.
Once upon a time, she dreamt of dashing princes on white horses and fierce dragons whose green scales glittered like emeralds, beautiful forests with elven maidens and princesses with hair of flaming red. Once she trusted that in the end, everything would somehow turn out all right, that the prince would come galloping in on his horse, that in a world of magic like the one she lived in nobody would ever be gone.
Once upon a time, there was a girl named Ginny Weasley who had never thought a plain black diary could hurt her, that she would never wake up on a cold stone floor with her head spinning and her mind not entirely her own. Once she believed that evil disappeared with the end of the story, that there was no way for it to enter her house and her room and her head, that she would never know panic akin to the time she opened her eyes to blood on her hands, feathers on her school robes, and no memory of the past six hours but a soft, mocking voice.
Once there was a girl who looked at the faded picture of her lost uncles—Fabian and Gideon—and trusted that it was all right, that she would never know anything like the pain of losing a brother. She thought that she would ever see a dead body, cold and pale and so far away.
Once upon a time, there was a girl who never thought she would kiss a boy with untidy black hair and green eyes like emeralds. Once, she thought that she would never feel so strongly towards him yet let him walk away with two of the people she loved most in the world. That she would never be able to smile brightly and laugh when he was all right without her, or carry on fighting when he lay dead in the arms of a giant. Once upon a time, Ginny never understood the meaning of if you love something, let it go.
Once upon a time, Ginny Weasley wanted sugar and pale, bland happiness. But then she grew up, and grew stronger, and lived, and realized real life, with its bittersweet happiness, with its dark shadows and brighter lights, was much better than perfection, and so she let go of her fairytale dreams, screamed and laughed and fought and cried.
Once upon a time, there was a girl who stood in the dust and ash of her broken fairytales and went on.