Paper
Bag
By Winterbloom
A Harry
Potter song-fic
to Fiona
Apple's Paper Bag
**************
Yes, I
know, the dreaded song-fic. But this
song is so much Ginny Weasley that it begged to be done.
So
here's to Ginny, the shy Weasley, adoring Harry from afar, spotting a dove of
hope in a tree, but realising it was only a paper bag.
Obviously,
I don't own Ginny or Harry or any of the Weasleys or anything else vaguely
recognisable as part of J.K. Rowling's fabulous Harry Potter series, nor
do I own this wonderful Fiona Apple song.
*************
I was
staring at the sky, just looking for a star
To pray on, or wish on,
or something like that
I was
having a sweet fix of a daydream of a boy
Whose
reality I knew, was hopeless to be had
Does anyone know who I am? Bill's sister, Charlie's sister, Percy's
sister, Fred and George's sister, Ron's sister…. I'm tired of being just
someone's sister. I'm not just
someone's sister. I'm Ginny. I'm Ginny Weasley, me, my own person, with
things I want, people I care about. I'm
not just a part of the Weasley collective, not just another strand of red hair
on the Weasley head. I'm Ginny.
But the dove of hope began its downward slope
And I
believed for a moment that my chances
Were
approaching to be grabbed
But as
it came down near, so did a weary tear
I
thought it was a bird, but it was just a paper bag
I have my own thoughts, does anyone know that? Does anyone know what I think about in my spare time, what I do when I'm alone? I'm alone a lot now, which is strange in a family as big as mine. I like to paint, I like to read. I like to simply be alone and think. Think about the future, or make things up in my mind as I go, like writing a book in my head.
Hunger
hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
'Cause I
know I'm a mess he don't want to clean up
I got to
fold 'cause these hands are too shaky to hold
Hunger hurts, but starving works
When it
costs too much to love
People
tease me a lot about Harry Potter. I
guess with reason. When I draw, I draw
him. When I think, I think about him. When I see the future, I see it with
him. He asked me to the Yule Ball this
year, and I thought I would melt through the floor, the way his green eyes
glittered when he spoke to me and how his cheeks flushed a little. I can't even remember saying yes, it was
like a dream. A sweet dream, one that I
replay in my mind over and over again every chance I get. I see it when I watch him on the Quidditch
field; I see it when I close my eyes to go to sleep. When I'm thinking about Harry, when I'm with Harry, I'm not just
one of the Weasleys, not just someone's sister. I'm someone special. I'm
Ginny. Only Ginny.
And I
went crazy again today,
Looking
for a strand to climb
Looking
for a little hope
Baby
said he couldn't stay, wouldn't put his lips to mine,
And a fail to kiss is a fail to cope
I
thought the Yule Ball would be perfect. The girls in Gryffindor helped make me up, gave me some perfume, worked
on my dress robes. They were green, an
emerald green, only a little lighter than Harry's. And when I came downstairs, my hair and face all done, he smiled. That smile was for me and me alone. And I felt like my own person, one that
someone liked simply because she was who she was. I thought that feeling would last all night. But after a while, when he was so reluctant
to dance, wouldn't take my hand after we walked in, his eyes always elsewhere,
I knew that this wasn't right anymore. I remember Ron asking Harry how he was doing. Harry told him, "It's a little strange, being here with your
sister."
I said,
"Honey, I don't feel so good, don't feel so justified
Come on
put a little love here in my void," - he said
"It's
all in your head," and I said, "So's everything" -
But he
didn't get it- I thought he was a man
But he
was just a little boy
I wasn't Ginny anymore. I was just Ron's sister, just a Weasley. I thought I would melt away through the floor, not because I was so happy, but because I was so mortified. I was only Ron's sister. It was weird because he was here with Ron's sister. He could have said my name, could have said that he wanted to go with Hermione or Cho or someone else. But he asked me, and said my name. Once we were there, my name vanished. I became just another red hair on the Weasley head.
Hunger
hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
'Cause I
know I'm a mess he don't want to clean up
I got to
fold 'cause these hands are too shaky to hold
I left the Ball after that. I was told that he looked for me for a while, and then danced with Hermione. I guess that was what he wanted all along. Why would he want to be stuck there with a Weasley? I don't even want to be a Weasley. I want to be Ginny, just Ginny, my own person on my own terms with my own personality. I don't want to be an extension of Fred and George or of Ron. I'm not. I'm me. Aren't I?
Hunger
hurts, but starving works,
When it
costs too much to love
Hunger
hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
'Cause I
know I'm a mess he don't want to clean up
I got to fold 'cause these hands are too shaky to hold
I don't draw Harry so much anymore. Don't think about him, don't wish I could dance with him or have him smile at me. That hurts too much. I've fallen back into the crowd of Weasleys he sees around the kitchen table when he comes to visit. Just an extension of the family, of the house, of the table. Just an addition to all the Weasleys he knows, another redhead he can count on when he's in trouble. Just another girl he's rescued who adores him for it. I'm not special enough to be his best friend, like Ron. I'm not even special enough to have my own name to him. I'm just Ron's sister.
Hunger
hurts, but starving works,
When it costs too much to love.