A/N: So Ginny's got kinda a hard-ish life, what with the whole 'Voldie's ba-ack' thing and Harry always being a jerkwad to her and stuff. So he's nice today!!!^-^ The topic down there is really serious, though-cutting is a way out for lots of people and I'm NOT trying to make fun of it or anything like that. If anything, I'm trying to say that it's hard for people sometimes and that cutting isn't the right way. *-AND it's just a fanfic too.*
I guess flames are okay, 'cos I need to improve and everything, as long as they're not TOO personal...;-_-;
This *gestures to the oh-so-obvious 'chapter 1' down there* is chapter one (1!) of hopefully many chapters to come about Ginny and the Dark Side... (daduhhhh....)
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Chapter 1
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Ginny stared out at the silver lawns and the glassy, moonlit lake. For a moment, as she looked over the dark treetops, the moon glistened like a jewel, and then the dark clouds pulled it away and the rain began to fall. It fell in heavy, unspoiled drops, drenching the wide grounds in seconds. It was pure, clean liquid. As it touched the ground in mingled with the dirt and became mud. Thick, ugly, unwanted water. Like tears. Dirty tears.
The dimly-lit common-room that her back was turned to was bustling with sound of voices and laughter. But she had unknowingly blocked it from her ears. Thunder roared outside, echoing through the old castle. The storm was already upon them. People behind her jumped and several shrieked. She didn't even shift from her seat on the window ledge. She had sunk into the very spot and would never move from it. Couldn't
She stared blankly at her left wrist. No one noticed her. In her shaking right hand, something glinted silver. She raised a stiff arm, palm outstretched, and drew a deep, steadying breath. Her right hand, clutching the glinting thing, went to her left wrist and made a tiny prick. The prick grew to a tiny cut, which grew to-
She winced for the first time and looked down at the clouds of blood appearing on her arm. Her left hand had balled into a fist so tight that her whole arm shook, and her fingernails were piercing her palm, spilling more blood. She dropped the shining object in her other hand and lifted a middle finger, touching it to the red on her wrist and bringing it slowly to her lips.
And he watched her.
She tasted. And her insides shattered. Her mouth was filled with a horrifyingly powerful, warm, thrill. It was the taste of death-no, life. It was the power of all life; the real Elixir. People should have to plead and savor and long for this life-giving liquid. Why was blood always just provided, and not granted only upon those worthy? Why was it not only the powerful or the intelligent, who were sure to put this wonder to good use and not take it for granted, that deserved a pleasure like this? She brought her finger back to her wrist, feeling the fluid flow wildly under her fingertip and wondering why he deserved this.
A shadow fell over her and she raised her head.
"You'll need to bandage that."
And his eyes met hers; those eyes that had haunted her sleep for so long. Deep and green like the depths of the deepest ocean, washing over her in waves of understanding, taking her by surprise.
He took her wrist in his hand. Like he knew. Maybe he did.
And they just stared at each-other. Her whole body had stopped, and she was watching his brow furrow a bit as he examined her face. Her eyes finally faltered under his gaze and he looked down at the blood that was caressing her arm like a new skin.
He had seen what she had done. And he knew what a fool she was. Maybe he thought she was crazy. And what if he knew what she had been thinking? -Like she could...kill. Like she could take blood and lives and hold them over the heads of the weak, taunting and challenging them to beat her. Like a Death Eater. Like a monster that sucked the blood of the world...
"...Or it won't stop bleeding,"
He paused, his eyes warning and meaningful. She raised her head, just a bit, and watched the blood slowly escape from her body. Leaving her, all alone, in her skin. She felt very faint.
"...And that could do you some harm."
Her eyes stung like fire and her throat tightened. She stood quickly and flung her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. For one shocked moment her was stiff with shock and unease. Then his arms folded gently around her back and her as her tears melted into his robes. She clung to his warm body, spilling her fears out in her tears, gasping quietly into his shoulder to breathe. And they stood there together, a dark boy with a scar and a trembling redhead, completely unnoticed by their many surroundings.
All at once, as if just realizing the horror of what she had just let herself do, she drew away and grasped her red wrist once more. She stepped out of his way to head, shaking, towards the portrait-hole.
"Where are you going? He called after her.
She stopped and turned.
"To get a bandaid." She smiled.