Disclaimer: I own a lot of nothing. My pockets are filled with it, in fact.
Summary:Ginny likes to play games with people. More specifically, with their hearts. Hermione POV. Dark vignette, set in wartime and involves a major character death.
A/N: Based on a song, again. I know I'm such a music-inspired writer…and sometimes I hate it. This one is from The Police's "Roxanne"
Roxanne,
You don't have to put on the red light
Those days are over
You don't have to sell your body to the night
Roxanne,
You don't have to wear that dress tonight
Walk the streets for money
You don't care if it's wrong or if it's right
I watch as he clenches his fists in anger, knowing the same feeling is coursing through my veins right now. Knowing that Harry and I have experienced similar emotions over a woman is odd, but not as odd as the fact that I can't fathom what lies before me. There's Ginny- my girlfriend- with her tongue down some woman's throat.
I don't know who the girl is, but I do register that I'm about to haul back and punch this vixen for luring Ginny into being unfaithful. And yet, it's really Ginny that I should hit. She's the one that's always misled others into being with her. I remember the way she won me. "Harry isn't the one for me, 'Mione. It's you," she'd whisper, deftly sliding a warm hand up my skirt. I'd let her. Who wouldn't? This divine creature, this godlike beauty here on earth. No one could resist her charms.
Apparently I couldn't, so I let myself fall for her. Eventually love her. Harry's girlfriend was my obsession, and it has remained that way ever since. Once Harry broke up with her, we were an official couple. Well, official doesn't mean monogamous, or approved for that matter. Ron turned his head in disgust, and we haven't spoken to him since. Harry and I have been fighting the war against Voldemort alone, save for the few remaining followers of the Order.
I see Harry's heavy leather cloak fall away smoothly to the cobblestone street as he draws his wand. "Show yourself," he commands, and I know that he cares more about who she's snogging rather than why. I wish I felt the same. The woman hidden in shadow steps forward into the light with Ginny, and she's recognizable immediately. Fleur. Before I know it, my feet are striking the ground harder and harder as I flee from the scene.
I think later. Beer in hand, tears making their way down my dirt-stained cheeks, I feel shameful for allowing myself to ride the ride everyone knew so well. Ginny Weasley. It's unexplainable…loving someone but ashamed for doing so. It invokes a sort of wrathful passion. And as she walks through our flat's door, I know what must occur.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," she says before wrapping her arms around me, and my eyes instantly dart away from our intertwined bodies. I can't watch what I'm about to do.
The silver knife I held in my opposite hand slides effortlessly into her thin robes, and she utters a horrible strangling sound. "Herm…i…on…e," she manages, half-choked, the blood pouring from her side. As it leaves her body, taking with it her life, I hold her tightly, and stroke her hair.
"Roxanne," I hum gently before I kiss her cheek,
"these days are over."
Fin.