The Colors of a Girl

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything related to it belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter One – Grey

A figure lay curled on the floor of the bedroom closet. Her knees were curled underneath her, her long black sweater flowing over her small and fragile body. Material belonging to her clothes hung from hangers above her bent head. No claustrophobia hit her in that small confined space; this was the only space where she actually felt safe.

The door to the closet was shut tightly, the only hint of the outside room entering through the tiny crack between the floor and the bottom of the door. Through here streaked small lines of sunlight. Her eyes fluttered over the tiny shadows of dust dancing in the light.

Her long hair lay over her shoulders, rolling down her back, shielding her face from the harshness of reality. Even though she sat completely still and silent in the closet, her heart raced in her chest and she felt a wash of dizziness come over her.

She blinked a few times, trying to clear her mind before carefully arranging the line of white powder in front of her. Her hands were shaking as she used a small piece of paper to make the line straight. Carefully, watching as to not disturb the substance in front of her, she lowered her head and held her breath, not wanting to blow on the powder. She breathed in quickly through her nose, before inhaling the rest of the powder. She closed her eyes and leaned carefully against the wall. Her chest was heaving under her shirt and she sucked in deeply, trying to rid of the ever more conscious feeling of dizziness consuming her.

Laying her eyes on the dancing swirls of dust under the closet door she watched as they became more detailed and she suddenly found herself amused by watching the floor. Her heart was beating so fast it was almost fluttering and she could feel a rush of heat creep up her cheeks.

She laid her small, thin hands on her knees and focused her attention onto them. She tried to keep them still, only to watch them shake more uncontrolled. She made a game of it, watching as her hands twitched and trembled on their own.

She listened intently to the noises heard through her bedroom floor. She heard muttering voices and panicked, wondering if somebody would catch her in this state of mind. She jerked her head sideways suddenly as she heard loud footsteps climbing the stairs of the hallway outside the room. Her gaze then returned to the dancing dust, bathed in the soft glow of sunlight through the room.

She sniffed quietly, not crying, but because she had too. She was suddenly feeling more anxious and panicked and she became aware of the fact that she biting her lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

"Shit." She whispered as a sharp burst of pain shot through her lip and she could taste her own salty blood in her mouth. She swallowed dryly, wishing for something to drink before simply forgetting about what she was thinking of.

Almost as quickly as the affect of the drug had come, it had gone, leaving her sitting in her own guilt and confusion in the dark, dusty closet. She crossed her thin, bony arms awkwardly across her almost flat chest and concentrated on breathing. Sometimes she forgot to do that.

She hesitated before slowly pulling herself up using the walls of the closet. She crouched, not being able to reach her full height in the cramped space. She reached out and pushed open the closet, allowing the early morning sunlight to wash over her body.

She glanced over at the wall on the clock, sighed, and then collapsed on her un-slept in bed. It was still early and she didn't want to leave the air of calm that was her room. Going downstairs would mean facing her family, and she certainly as not in the mood for that.

She went over to her closet, pulling out a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and quickly got undressed, pausing as she stood fully unclothed in the center of her room. She ran her hands over the sides of her chest and stomach, loving the feel of her ribs through her skin. Running her hands smoothly over her pale skin she came to her stomach and consciously wrapped both arms around herself, trying to hide herself from the emptiness. She felt odd and out of place; too big in a world that was already huge. She peered down at her pale body. Hating everything; hating her legs, hating her thighs, hating her stomach, and hating her lack of chest.

She walked around the room, still naked, letting the air wash over herself. She rubbed her left arm with her right and admired the smoothness of her own skin. She sucked in her stomach, making herself as thin as possible. Her ribs protruded from her small body and she ran her fingers underneath her ribcage, wishing she was that thin. She exhaled, letting her stomach balloon out. Reaching for her clothes, she got dressed quickly.

She then took a few steps so her whole reflected back at herself in the tall mirror leaning against the wall. A small girl frowned back at her, her pale and pointed face framed by long red locks. Light brown eyes stabbed into hers, appearing tired and sad. The lips frowning were thin and pale pink, closed together tightly and pulled into a sad sulk. Light freckles danced across her cheeks and nose, not unlike the dust she had seen in the dark of the closet. She faintly smiled as she ran her hand over her stomach again, resting her open palm on the metal bar protruding from her navel. She had gotten it pierced during a recent rebellious streak that had not ended. Nobody knew about it, of course. Nobody would understand why she had gotten it pierced in the first place.

Crossing the room slowly, she placed her hand on the cold metal doorknob, lingering yet one more moment in the fortress that she had created. Her hand turned the knob and the door swung open, creaking quietly. She made her way down the narrow staircase, keeping her elbows in, as not to hit them on the walls.

The scene that hit her when she reached the bottom step was typical. Her mother stood at the kitchen counter, watching as knives, cutting boards and the oven worked by themselves. Her father, as usual, was not home, having have left for work very early. Seated around the cramped table in the dining room were three of her brother, Ron, Fred and George.

Hearing her come down the stairs, George turned his head and smiled at her. "Ginny! You're awake," He said loudly.

"Good morning, sweetie." Called her mother over the whir of the blender.

"Morning." She said timidly, taking a place at the table beside Ron.

"We're heading to Diagon Alley today." Fred told her, "Mum got the booklists today, late again."

Ginny nodded, reaching out her hand and grabbing a glass, which she filled with orange juice. She sipped quietly, listening as the three boys talked about the latest Quidditch match. Normally, Ginny would have been interested in talking about Ginny, but after hearing about it all summer she was quite sick of it. Not having Hermione here, as was usual, was also different, and Ginny had spent most of the summer holidays locked up in her room doing whatever she wanted.

She had actually gone out to London, dressed as a Muggle, a few times. She had wandered around, looking through stores and people-watching. She was fascinated by the pretty girls standing on the streets smoking. She would sit on a bus bench, pretending to wait for a bench, and would watch the teenage girls talking and laughing. They couldn't have been much older than her, perhaps about 16. One girl in particular stood out in Ginny's mind. She stood around the corner, waiting to ask somebody to buy her a pack of smokes from the drugstore. She had long dirty blonde hair and aqua blue eyes that sparkled in the orange glow of the streetlights. She was usually wearing jeans, tight jeans that hugged every curve and stretched tank-tops, barely covering her midriff and allowing her bra straps to be seen clearly. Ginny had seen many guys walk by her and looking back to get a second look. She admired her in a way; she wished she would get that much attention from guys.

Ginny hadn't been too lucky with guys ever since coming to Hogwart's. Unlike her brothers, who were tall, gangly and silly; Ginny had a different air about her. Maybe it was the fact that she was the only Weasley daughter, standing out from her brothers.

The last guy Ginny had gone out with had been Theodore Nott, a Slytherin a year ahead of her. Their relationship had ended quickly, he just lacked spark. The more Ginny thought about it, she realized that he lacked much more. They had been going out for about a month and all they had even got to was small kisses on the lips.

She was still a virgin though; she just wanted a relationship that moved along more quickly. She liked surprises and often than not, found herself the leader in a couple. The way the girl in the tight jeans looked, Ginny knew she was no virgin. Sometimes she would be accompanied by a guy, sometimes a few different ones during the course of a week. Ginny wanted to be like that girl. She didn't want to be a slut; that was one of the things she avoided, keeping her relationships on the down low.

She remembered the night she had gone up to the girl. It was a cooler night, late in August, and she had told her mother she would go to a friend's for the night. That was lie; instead, she spent the night walking around London, finally ending up at the same familiar street, across the corner by the drugstore. She remembered the scene quite clearly too. The girl was wearing a pair of black jeans, very low, and a red tank-top, over this, a black knit sweater, pulled tightly against her small body.

The girl had told her that her name was Ariel. She was in fact, only 15 years old, a year older than Ginny. As they talked quietly, Ariel pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one with a silver lighter she had taken from her purse. Ginny watched as she pulled the cigarette to her red-stained lips and inhaled deeply, finally blowing out a stream of smoke that was carried away into the wind. She finally looked over to Ginny, and smiled at her lightly. She shook the pack towards her.

"Want one?" She had asked in her clear, loud voice.

Ginny had hesitated at first, then reached out and took, surprised at how light the cigarette was. Ariel took out the lighter again and lit it. Ginny slowly put it to her lips, pausing before she sucked in deeply. The smoke hit her lungs lightly, and she was surprised at how different it was than how she had pictured. They stood there quietly, until a loud honk had sounded through the night and a small silver car pulled up beside the curb.

Ginny peered through the tinted window and could make out two figures in the front seats. Beside her, Ariel seemed to be doing the same thing and she walked over to the car as the figure in the passenger seat rolled down the window. She stood a few minutes, talking to the guys in the car. She then turned back to Ginny and smiled.

"There's a party at my friend's house tonight. Wanna come?"

Ginny through the butt down on the ground and smothered it with her shoe.
"Yeah, sure." She said, as she went up to the car and slid into the backseat beside Ariel.

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