A/N:This is sth that flew at my mind and I just couldn't rest till finishing it…

It takes place at Hogwarts, during DH, probably at around February or the dawn of March…Well, that was poetic…*flashback-crazyness –and-overly-HP-nerdness*  "…born as the seventh month dies…" XD

Anyway, I tried a new way of writing in this story, only because it's short, and I couldn't get bored of it XD, or not to ruin another big story as it's the first time I write from a character's POV completely…I bet four sickles that I puzzled you…Anyway…

oh, and sth else…If you notice, in this chapter I have one character taling with "well, well.".. Well, that's because I find this particular phrase fairly evil…You'll find out…:D

Chap 1- Dark and Empty

'Bloody, idiotic, evil Slytherin moron! How could he do this to me?!'

I stop running and fold at my middle, leaning with my hand onto the wall for support as I try to catch my breath. That Goyle boy was unbelievable! Make me clean up the mess HE had created and now I'm late. Late for Mugglology. Well, at least what used to be called Mugglology.

I stand straight and start running once again through the dark, empty corridors. So familiar and so changed at the same time. No longer cheery students chatting here and there. No pranks, no laughs, no chit-chat on the corners or snogging behind the tapestries.

Those were all long gone.

Now, at the corridors you can see only scared, darkened, injured faces, running to get a shelter from the danger that could be behind every door or corner. Death Eaters' sons and daughters walking around like they owned the place. Kids being cursed or crusiated. First years –and not only- hiding behind the tapestries. Even the portraits were silenced. Fear and darkness ans injustice and pain. And the bloody fucking Carrows hexing everyone they saw.

By now, the castle's corridors were empty and my steps are echoing. It's raining outside at the park. As usual for such a month. We had snow for a couple of weeks. Pretty inconvenient. They could trace our footprints and find us. Thank Merlin this valid only outside, on the grounds.

The unhealed wood on my arm aches, cutting my train of thoughts, and I winch but keep running.

I know well enough what Cow Carrow will do to me –or to be realistic- is going to do to me, now I'm late. Shit. Run Ginny, run.

I must go, even if I face punishment. But as I speed up, pushing my self to fly, considering I'm only two staircases and a hallway away, a figure turned the corner and I freeze on my heels. No need to earn other wounds or bruises. Or both. I've got enough for now.

"Well, look what we've got here. Little Weasley." Zabini keeps walking steadily towards me, and despite the distance, I can fairly recognize his smug smirk.

"I'm not little." I say through my teeth, clenching my hands so tightly that my knuckles are probably white. 'Just remember. No more wounds.' I repeat my self mentally over and over, as he keeps closuring me.

I have three choices.

Play nice and he'll probably let me go.

Start running and probably get hexed.

Or just step up and face him, as I'd have done some years, maybe months before, and still get hexed.

Sure, this is what I'd have done before. Before all this hell began. Some people think we are protected here. Having a bed to sleep, a warm plate of food and a shelter from the pain and despair that heavies the air through the whole country.

But seeing it from another point of view, it's no better. Not when you can't lie down on your bed because you're bruised all over or you lie down because you can't stand at your feet. Not when you must check your food every time for lethal poisons. Not when all you can think at night is that a bastard could sneak in and kill you or maybe even worse.

Yeah. Ginevra Molly Weasley thinking in that weak and pessimistic way. But you know, people change.

And yeah, me, a Gryffindor, I choose to slither out of it. I'll play nice. But well, he has to do so too.

"What are you doing here, Weasley?" he arrogantly demands.

"People usually walk at corridors." I snap back, unable to hold my tongue at his tone.

"I mean what you are doing outside of class, Weasley." he is now in front of me, towering me balefully. No. I won't step back. As dangerous as he is right now, I can't display weakness. I'm stronger than this. He has a wand but so do I. And although he has the authority to use it, I have the power to bit him. Fury is growing slowly more and more into me at the sight of him, looking at me like that.

As I move my hand slowly into my pocket, he keeps talking. "And I thought your mind actually worked, but it seems you're only another slut that -" He's unable to finish cause I just slapped him.

Blinded by fury I wasn't master of my hand. With its own will it defended my honor.

Stupid action.

Because before I could reach for my wand again he flicks his and disarms me with an evil smugly smirk on his face. I'm not fast enough to catch the flying wand and sensing the danger I stand still. He steps closer and leans in as I stare somewhere behind him.

No. I won't give him the pleasure of the bewilder in my eyes.

"Well, well." he continues to smirk evilly. "Little slut likes violence. We can do something about that." he points out and grabs my waist, pulling me toughly on him.

There's no margin to try to be nice and quiet.

I know where this could lead, and there's no way I can let it happen. I clench my fists and attack him. Everywhere I can reach him, his chest, ribs, stomach, even his face. But it seems I'm not strong enough. He spins me around and my back hits the cold stone of the wall with a awful sound as he pushes me onto it.

And as he throws away both our wands, I can't help but terrify at the fact that's he's absolutely sure he doesn't need a wand to manage me off.

Every shell of my brain screams at me to scream for help, coming from my most survival instincts, but I know I shouldn't.

There's no help in that. No one would be allowed out of class, no one would want to take me from here and face the consequences, and I don't want to put those who would face all those shits for me in danger.

I am all alone.

But I'm strong enough. I can deal with it.

An evil laugh reaches my ears, bringing me back to reality. He still has me pinned up against the wall, his one hand holding my jaw still, while the other has reached beneath my shirt, pressing on my stomach.

His touch is cold and nauseating, as my stomach twists in disguise under his fingers.

"So, tell me Weasley." his hand creeping dangerously upwards. "Have that bloody Potter fucked the hell out of you?" I close my eyes, not only at the implication that lies behind the question, not only to avoid showing my angry tears, or don't wanting to face that bastard for the next of my life, but at the mention of him.

Before those emerald eyes freeze my mind completely, taking one last breath, I curl back on the wall and jump at him, shove him down, making him hit his head on the cold stone as I try to get to my wand.

Insult HIM in front of me and you're dead as in front of the eyes of the Basilisk.

I'm almost there, reaching my hand to grab my only defense, as I feel a sharp pain on my ankle. That very same ankle I had totally broken into pieces at the Department of Mysteries, two years ago. It still arched when I got it tired or push it, but this pain was beyond any of that insignificant hurt.

He has grabbed it to pull me towards him. We're still on the floor fighting like a lion as I try to escape from his gasp and my ankle hurts so much that I feel faint.

And of course he's stronger than me. Pulling e even closer, away from my wand, he dizzily crawls over and glues me down with his hands, leaning over, trying to bring his lips on mine.

Gathering momentum I slam his head with my forehead but he still has hold of me.

Now, after my defending sessions, he seems more furious and uncontrolled. As my head spins and my ankle is killing me, I feel him tugging roughly on my shirt, ripping it off, getting access to my chest.

I close my eyes, unable to stand watching his pleasure over my fear and anger and disguise. His filth hands are on me, and I'm pretty sure I can't go through this. Fighting him off like a mad with my hands and my good leg only gets me his hand over both of mine, holding them over my head.

Disarmed and undefending, I feel him press his lower body on mine and I squirm in the need to throw up the contains of my stomach once gain.

He laughs at my reaction and his free hand creeps down my waist till the hem of my skirt and my eyes open wide as it keeps moving upwards inside of the dark fabric.

Involuntarily and instinctively, I scream.

I screech and fights and scuffle with any strength that I still have in me, screaming my lungs out for help.

I don't care if it's useless.

I must do whatever it's up to me.

He tries to control me, but as I keep struggling like a loony, he slaps me hard and I almost go numb as my head spins and I don't know where is up or down, not finding my voice anymore.

But before I could welcome darkness completely, I hear –like through a lot of water- a familiar voice screaming my name from far away, and with my last source of power I turn my head, I can recognize a hint of blond before I give in unwillingly into the darkness, where I can't defend my self anymore.

A/N:Well, well…Cookie at those who have guessed well about who this blondie is, and double cookie to those who review…

Love you all. Take care. Smile like there's no tomorrow…

[I'm trying to find a phrase to end up with at every single chapter, cause I think it's really cool…If you have any ideas, let me know…]