DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.
Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition: Round 8
Team: Kenmare Kestrels
Position: Seeker
Prompt: What (if anything) does the Order of Phoenix do in response to Voldemort rising to power in a Voldemort wins!AU?
Drabble Club: tears (word)
Quidditch Pitch: "A Beautiful Lie" by 30 Seconds to Mars
Emotion Challenge: Hopeless
Greek Mythology Category Competition: Atalanta: Write about Ginny Weasley
Percy Jackson Character Challenge: Atlas: Write about someone bearing a heavy load.
If You Dare Challenge: 360. Mud
Fairy Tales Challenge: Cinderella: Write about Ginny Weasley
Optional Prompts: Midnight, . (picture)
She ducks into a corner, brushing off the dirt that speckles her traveling cloak. Waving her wand in a half-hearted gesture, she conjures up a small mirror. There's a hint of red on the rim of her eyes from the tears that had been pouring down her cheeks just a few minutes ago.
"Be strong, Ginny," she mutters, clenching the fabric of her cloak in her trembling fists. She takes a deep breath. "It's all going to be okay."
But she knows she is telling herself a lie.
Lies.
They are her only saviours in this world.
It doesn't matter whom she tells them to; the lies don't discriminate. She lies to herself. She lies to others. She lies to the world.
But she knows that no matter how many lies she tells, the truth will still echo in her head.
"Ginny?" a voice calls. She turns around, waving her wand to Vanish the mirror. Straightening her robe, she wipes her eyes one last time and ducks back out of the dim corner. Her eyes travel to the dirt walls, the dirt floor, the dirt everything of the underground corridor.
"I'm here," she says, hoping her voice sounds smooth, pretending that nothing's wrong. Another lie.
Dean's face appears, his brows furrowed as he stares at her. "You okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine."
Lies.
Ginny bows her head as she squeezes past Dean, swiping her hand across her eyes. She combs her fingers through her hair, glancing at the limp red strands.
They used to be lively. She used to be lively. Full of fire.
She tells herself that one day, she'll be like that again.
Lies.
It's a beautiful lie
It's a perfect denial
Such a beautiful lie to believe in
She hears Dean follow her, and soon enough, warm fingers wrap around her wrist, pulling her back. Ginny holds back the tears that are threatening to spill.
Be strong, Ginny.
The words bounce around in her head, reminding her once more of what she used to be.
"Ginny, Kingsley wants you," Dean says. He stares into her eyes for a moment, searching for something. Then he pulls his gaze away as if he is scared of what he sees. She knows why—eyes like black holes greet her every time she glances in a mirror. Empty, except for the few shards that still remain. They pull in anyone who looks too closely, trapping them. Crushing them.
Who wouldn't look away if they could?
Dean gives her a quick hug before leaving.
Ginny runs her hand over the walls, wondering if this is what life will be like from now on. Life clammed up underground. A life without light.
Isn't it ironic? a voice whispers in her mind. The Order, the so-called light, living in the darkness.
"Stop," she says, shaking her head. "I don't want to hear it."
You failed, Ginny. You failed, the voice croons. It slithers through her head like a snake, coiling in the darkest recesses of her mind, waiting with open jaws for its prey.
"Stop!" She hates how desperate her voice sounds, and fear courses through her body in waves. "Please, stop."
Failed, the voice repeats. She can almost see the snake that lies waiting, flicking out its tongue, calling for her blood. She knows what it wants.
But she can't let it eat her. If she does, she will lose what little remains of the old Ginny Weasley. What remains of that lively, fiery girl.
She wonders if she has already been eaten.
She wonders if that girl has already become a mote of dust in the past, lost in the dirt of humanity, in the void of what used to be. She wonders if she is already just a shell of the old Ginny Weasley.
Ginny pushes away all her thoughts as she reaches Kingsley's position further up the corridor. She passes several of her former classmates along the way. They're terrified, but their eyes all turn to her as she ducks down the narrow path between them.
She sees the same emotion etched on all their faces: hope.
They think she'll save them. They think she'll make the nightmare of this new world go away.
Lies.
It's a beautiful lie
It's a perfect denial
Such a beautiful lie to believe in
They're part of this world now—one with the dirt of the earth. That's what Voldemort wants them to be.
Those who are born from dust and filth will always return to it.
"Ginny," Kingsley says, greeting her with a nod. He's leading this train of misfits and refugees on the front. "How are you?"
"Fine."
Lies.
"You're going out." The corners of his lips quirk up in a small smile.
She wonders how he can smile. It seems impossible when her own muscles always refuse. Just more evidence that her body is rebelling against her, like the nagging voice in her mind and the limp red strands of her hair.
"That's… nice," she manages to say.
Be strong.
"A mission?" She curls her hands into fists for a moment, ignoring the tiny crescent-shaped marks that she knows are on her palms.
"Yes. You'll be going on a raid."
"A raid?" she asks, hating how blank she sounds.
He places a weathered hand on her shoulder in an almost paternal way. "A raid of Vol—I mean, You-Know-Who's headquarters."
Ginny nods, but she doesn't feel the excitement, anticipation, or even the anxiety that the mission should give her. She moves past Kingsley, shrugging his hand off her shoulder, and doesn't look back as Dean whispers something encouraging to her.
She can't bear to see the hopeful looks in the tunnel behind her. Let them believe whatever will help them sleep tonight as they use rocks for their pillows.
Let them believe their lies.
It's a beautiful lie
It's a perfect denial
Such a beautiful lie to believe in
She doesn't have the right to judge.
Ginny holds her wand at her side, careful not to let it fall from its dangling position in her fingers. She can't find the strength to grip it any tighter.
Her gaze is fixed on the manor in front of her.
She can hear the snake in her mind hissing with pleasure. It's almost as if it knows that she is going to die in that very manor.
She can almost see the cold smile on Voldemort's face, the triumphant glint in his red eyes.
No.
She can't let him have that victory. She can't let him win.
She has to fight.
For Harry.
Ginny turns and shoots a hex at the Death Eater who's following her. She races toward the ruined courtyard, feeling bile rise in her throat as she jumps over the bodies that litter the ground.
She finds a sobbing Hermione, who is nestled in Ron's arms as she cries into his shoulder.
"Where's Harry?" Ginny demands, shaking Ron. "Where is he?"
"I… I don't know, Gin," Ron says softly.
"Hermione!" Ginny pulls Hermione out from Ron's arms. "Where is he?"
A strangled sob escapes Hermione's lips. "Ginny…"
"Tell me where my Harry is!" Tears run down Ginny's cheeks, slipping through her trembling lips. They fill her mouth with a salty tang.
"Ginny, please," Ron whispers, pulling her in for a hug. "Gin…"
"Where is he?" she screams, punching Ron. Her fists batter against his chest. "Harry!"
"I can't tell her." Hermione leans on Ron for support.
Ron grabs Ginny's wrists and stares down at her. His blue eyes are clouded with tears.
Ginny can tell that these aren't her brother's eyes. No, Ron's eyes are supposed to be hopeful, filled with intense emotion. This Ron's eyes are broken.
Ron chokes on a sob before managing to speak. "Gin… Harry's—"
"No!" Ginny shrieks, the tears threatening to drown her.
"—dead"
The word had echoed in her head. It still does.
Dead.
Dead.
Dead.
Harry.
Dead.
Harry.
Dead.
The next few minutes had passed by in a blur of tears and screams. Heartbreak. The feeling that all hope was lost. A numbness took over after that, something that stole almost every ounce of the old Ginny Weasley away. It left only a tiny bit for her to claim, for her to try to live with.
And that part is fading away.
"Ginny?" Dennis asks, placing a hand on her back. "You okay?"
"Yeah."
As well as you can be when you're broken.
More lies.
"Come on." He gives her a small smile.
She wonders how this little boy grew up so fast. How he can have hope.
Maybe it, too, is a lie. Just a mask he puts on to help others.
It's a beautiful lie
It's a perfect denial
Such a beautiful lie to believe in
"Ginny, come on," he says again. He looks at her with something akin to pity in his eyes. Like she is a fragile necklace that used to shimmer.
She can't stand that look. She can't stand that she is being pitied. Has that necklace been thrown down too many times? Is she just a few scattered shards?
Is she really that broken?
The old Ginny Weasley wasn't pitied. She wasn't broken.
But, then again, that Ginny Weasley is long gone.
She creeps to the gates, flanked by Dennis and Padma. The torches at the side provide the only light in the black of the midnight.
She hears footsteps approaching. "Hide," she hisses. They dive behind a thick bush, squatting. The mud covers her leather boots, staining it a dirty brown. The color of the dust of the earth, a reminder of the life she is living.
They wait with baited breath. Her heart is racing, the beats almost painful.
"Potter's head looks quite good on my gates, if I might say so myself," a voice drawls. Malfoy.
"Agreed," another voice says.
Ginny swallows a sob. Harry's head. On the gates of Voldemort's lair.
"Ginny?" Padma whispers, giving her a soothing pat on the back.
She turns and gives Padma a half-hearted, "I'm okay."
Lies.
She feels an urge to hex off the smirk that she just knows is on Malfoy's face. But she is just a broken girl.
Broken, the snake hisses. It flicks its tail, opening its jaws in a smile.
She feels useless. She is broken.
She hates that word. Broken. She hates that it describes her so perfectly.
But it seems like she'll never be able to change it.
The footsteps fade off into the distance. She hears Padma and Dennis sigh in relief.
"Let's go."
She failed.
Failed.
Failure seems to to be a prominent word in her life. She can never do anything without failing.
She failed to save Harry.
She still sees his dead body lying limply at Voldemort's feet, green eyes dim.
She failed to save Dennis and Padma.
She still sees them being dragged off by Death Eaters and then hearing their screams.
She failed to save Hermione.
She still sees Hermione's mouth opening in an "o" as Bellatrix draws a thin, red smile across her neck in a flash. She sees her falling to the ground, the blood trickling out.
She failed to save Ron.
She still sees Ron's red hair, his blue eyes strong as he fires spell after spell, then finally, the candle is blown out by a jet of green light.
She failed to save everyone.
Why should she live when there is nothing left to live for, nothing left to lose?
She hates that life is using her as its playtoy, letting her lose everything. Then it forces her to live a life without meaning.
Everyone's looking at me
I'm running 'round in circles
Plagued with a quiet desperation's building higher
I've got to remember this is just a game
Life is cruel. It has almost won the game.
She should've known.
She shouldn't have believed her own lies.
She meets Kingsley's gaze with blank eyes as he talks to her, tells her everything is okay. That sometimes people fail.
It's a beautiful lie
It's a perfect denial
Such a beautiful lie to believe in
But that's not the case.
She always fails.
Kingsley's words are like a faint buzz in the distance.
The only word she can hear is fail.
Ginny lays on the ground, holding the album in her hands. She runs her fingers over the pictures, tears brimming in her eyes. One slips out of the barrier, stops at her chin for a moment, then drops. It is followed by a thousand more, one after the other.
Pit.
Pat.
The tears drop in rhythm with the word that echoes in her head.
Fail.
She stares at a picture of her and Harry kissing. That was back then when they still had hope. When they could smile and laugh. When they were happy.
That time is gone.
The tears come faster.
Pit.
Pat.
There's a picture of her, Harry, Hermione, and Ron, standing together. Laughing.
She traces their faces, the thought that they lost that all so quickly drawing a strangled sob from her.
"Why?" she whispers.
She used to pinch herself. She used to believe that it was all just a nightmare, that she would wake up soon.
Lies.
"Someday," she used to say.
Lies.
Ginny flips the page to see yet another happy picture, the album dangling from her fingers. She drops it, not hearing the soft thump it makes.
She has to keep fighting.
She has to make up for her failure.
There it comes, that deceiving flicker of hope. She knows she should stop it, but she lets herself bathe in the fantasy for a few precious moments.
Maybe, one day, she'll have hope again. Maybe, one day, she'll be able to smile and laugh. Maybe, one day, she'll be able to tell herself that everything is going to be alright and actually believe it. That one day, she won't be so hopeless. Won't be broken.
Or maybe that's just another lie.
It's a beautiful lie
It's a perfect denial
Such a beautiful lie to believe