A/N: This is my first fanfiction, so please let me know if I made any formatting errors and tell me how to fix them. Also, please let me know if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes that I missed during my proofreading, or just general mistakes I made about the Harry Potter universe (I like to stick to canon). I decided for my first fanfiction to just start small, so I just wrote a small story, only a couple of pages long, about Ginny's perspective on the Dursleys. If you have any constructive criticism, please don't hesitate to say it, as I want to improve my writing skills. I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own any characters or stories from the Potter-verse. Be thankful for that, because they wouldn't have been half as good if I wrote them instead of J.K. Rowling.
Some Scars Don't Fade
Some scars may fade.
And some stay, rooted deep in your heart and soul, no matter how many years pass, no matter how many tears are shed, no matter how many times "I'm sorry" is said, no matter how many times "I forgive you" is said, no matter how many times those words are meant.
Harry sleeps soundly now, untroubled, for once, by his regular nightmares. This was surprising- Ginny had expected him to be up all night thinking about the Christmas card that arrived in the mail today.
Maybe he had truly forgiven. Or maybe he'd just pushed the thought aside, wanting his waking and sleeping hours to be peaceful this Christmas. Or maybe both.
It was, however, stuck in Ginny's mind. Try as she might, she couldn't empty her mind of the card, and every time she closed her tired eyes she saw eleven-year-old Harry, struggling to sleep in a tiny cupboard under the stairs, where it would have been cramped, and dark, and hot. She saw him being bullied mercilessly by the people who were supposed to love him, and care for him. She saw a three-year-old Harry's eyes shining with excitement on Christmas… and watching someone else open a tower of presents in front of him, while he received nothing but hate-filled glares. She saw a seven-year-old Harry, upset that he was the only orphan in his class, crying to the people who were supposed to comfort him, and getting a bruised cheek in return.
The Christmas card had been from Dudley Dursley, Harry's cousin.
She had seen Harry open the card, seen his eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up in shock. His jaw dropped and for a moment he seemed to be frozen. The sound of her concerned voice had brought him back to Earth, and he had wordlessly showed her the card.
Deer Harry and Ginny,
Merry Christmas! I hope you have a great day today.
Harry, I just wanted to say that I'm so, so sorry for how my parents and I treated you. I'm so ashamed of myself, and I hope you can forgive me. If you can't, I understand. I'm so sorry.
From Dudley (and my fiancée Heather)
Ginny had felt anger rise up in her. That disgusting prick really thought Harry would forgive him for ten years of torment? He thought that sending a Christmas card would make it all better? She'd seen Harry's eyes flicker, first to the cupboard under the kitchen sink, where they kept their rubbish bin, then to the flame flickering in the fireplace. Ginny's first thought was that she'd applaud him if he tore it up and threw it in the fire.
After what felt like a lifetime, Harry chuckled. When Ginny had asked him what was funny, he merely said "He spelt 'dear' wrong," chuckled again, and placed the card on the mantelpiece, along with all the other cards they'd received from the people who care about him and have always loved him unconditionally. They didn't say any more on the subject, and Harry had all but passed out when they got home from Mrs Weasley's Christmas dinner, courtesy of a hard-core game of Quidditch they'd played with the rest of the family
The card still lingered in Ginny's mind all through the night.
She remembered when he told her the full extent of their abuse, she'd been horrified. She'd been ready to march over there and jinx them into oblivion, and she'd been calling them every colourful name in the book, shouting words that would have horrified Mrs Weasley. Harry was ready to take her wand and stick her feet to the floor to stop her from going, but thankfully he managed to convince her that he just wanted to forget about them.
Ginny knew he never had forgotten, though. As much as he tried to convince her and himself that it didn't matter anymore, that he'd forgiven them, she'd seen little things that showed they still affected him to this day. She'd seen his eyes linger jealously on happy young children in the street, laughing as their parents pushed them on the swings in the park and smiled lovingly. She'd caught him staring at Victoire and Dominique as Bill and Fleur rocked them and played with them, seen him watching Percy and Audrey grinning down at Molly, their pride and joy. He'd even given little Teddy a longing look, as the boy who lost his parents still got to grow up in a loving family. Harry knew he had a family who loved him and treated him as their own with the Weasleys, and Ginny knew he appreciated it every minute of every day; however, she also knew he still wished he'd had that as a child.
But his family had failed him.
And the worst thing about it was that it wasn't just his family who failed him. Surely his teachers at his Muggle primary school noticed that Dudley had snuggly-fitting uniforms while Harry's hung on him, several sizes too big. Surely they noticed that his glasses were taped together. Surely they noticed that Dudley had a gang of friends while Harry was always left to sit alone at lunch, was always picked last to play sports, was never paired with anyone in group activities. Surely they noticed that Vernon and Petunia Dursley gave their son glowing looks and refused to believe their reports that Dudley was a bully, while they hardly spared a glance for their orphan nephew, and never stuck up for him.
They must have been smart enough to put two and two together and realise the little boy was being neglected and abused by his family. Although Ginny knew that he needed to stay there for his mother's charm to keep him safe, the Muggle teachers wouldn't have known that. They could have reported the Dursleys to the authorities, or at least let Harry know that he could talk to them, that someone cares about him. Yet they never did.
They never did, and because of that Harry grew up believing no one gave a damn about him. He believed he was nothing, that he wasn't worthy of people's love. When they were younger and her mother heaped extra sausages on his plate and her brothers invited him to play Quidditch, she never missed the look of surprise on his face. He would always be surprised that he was being looked after, that people were treating him like family. Even to this day, after years of Mrs Weasley fussing over him and playing Quidditch with her brothers and explaining Muggle technology to her fascinated father, after years of loving each other, Ginny knew Harry still couldn't believe he was cared for, and he still couldn't believe he was loved.
That's what some scars do. Instead of tattooing your body and fading over time, some scars infect your heart and mind and stay there, no matter how long it's been, no matter how severe the cut.
Some scars don't fade.
A/N: Happy birthday Harry and Jo!