It's Not So Bad

It's Not So Bad

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Author's Note: Ah me, another fic. It's a Ginny fic, since I've noticed they aren't as common as Hermione or Draco fics. So, I take it upon me to spread my bit of angst upon Ginny's bread. A bit sad, a bit depressing, a bit long. Please R/R, believe me, it's greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: I own none of the HP characters. It would be heaven if I did! The lyrics are by Dido, from her songs "Thank You" and "No Angel". Remarkably depressing singer. As a result, I chose her song for this fic. You should listen to her sometime. Her song "Thank You" is also featured in Eminem's "Stan".

***

My tea's gone cold

I'm wondering why I...

Got out of bed at all.

Fourteen year-old Ginny Weasley stood at the large, bay window in the fourth years' girls' dormitory, shivering in her nightdress. It was cloudy outside, rain pouring over Hogwarts. Ginny looked at the magical clock hung above her wardrobe. Five o'clock in the morning. Ginny sighed.

The morning rain

clouds up my window ...

and I can't see at all.

She recalled her "adventure" that had occurred the day before. She'd stumbled into one of the numerous old, unused classrooms. Everything inside had been covered with a thick layer of dust. Coughing, she had turned to leave before something shiny had caught her eye.

The Mirror of Erised.

Desire.

It, unlike all of the other objects in the room, was free of dust. Shining, looking newly polished, it beckoned for Ginny to come closer. She did. Ginny noticed the inscription at the bottom of the mirror.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi

Ginny knelt down and peered intently. What sort of language was this? Erised stra ehru...? It definitely wasn't Latin. These were plainly English characters, not some sort of arrangement of symbols or ancient runes. It didn't sound like French, Spanish, or Italian ... or any other Latin-based language, for the matter. Ginny stood up, thinking hard.

This was a mirror. Therefore this should be ... mirror language. Yes. That was it. Ron had told Ginny about it, saying that "Erised" meant "desire" backwards.

She sat down again and tried to interpret the inscribed phrase.

"I-I show not oy ... no, your face but your heat ... heart's desire ..."

She repeated the words to herself, like a mantra. "I show not your face but your heart's desire ... I show not your face but your heart's desire ..."

Hesitantly, she rose and stared into the mirror.

She saw herself. Older, calmer, cooler, collected. Sophisticated, elegant, chic, even. She was walking along a cobblestone path, feet encased in stiletto heels, in what appeared to be a fairyland background.

And even if I could

it'll all be grey,

but your picture on my wall ...

Harry walked behind her, calling her name. She ignored him. Ginny had watched this scene in amazement. Her, ignoring Harry, the love of her life? Harry caught up to her mirror image, laying a hand on her shoulder. Her mirror self stopped. Harry opened his mouth and-

Ginny had turned away. She didn't want to see what would happen, she didn't want to see what her heart's desire was.

The memory faded. She had run back to the dormitory, gasping for breath. She hadn't been able to sleep at all. It was only now that she had given up the mission of entering REM (Rapid Eye Movement) and stood in front of the window. Looking around the room, amidst the faint snores of her classmates, her eyes landed upon a picture of Harry.

It reminds me

that it's not so bad,

it's not so bad ...

Harry. Harry, Ron's best friend. Harry, who would probably end up with Hermione and having loads of children, who would one day look up to Ginny and say, "Hello, Auntie." Harry, the star Quidditch player. Harry, the one who had saved the world.

Harry, the one she Loved.

She wondered if one day he would ever return that Love. Ron had told her, over the summer, that Harry still thought a bit about Cho. This had stung a bit, but not a lot, as Ginny knew it would not and could not last. Ron had never said anything about Hermione, but Ginny knew that was simply because Ron himself fancied her. Ginny could see in the way Harry and Hermione looked at each other that they would at least date, never mind the future. But still ... it wasn't wrong to hope, now, was it?

I'm no angel, but please don't think that I won't try and try

I'm no angel, but does that mean that I can't live my life?

Ron had always been overprotective. Along with telling Ginny that Harry was still strung up on Cho, he'd also told her to "get on with her life. There's no use in just moping around all day thinking of Harry. Go and focus on, say Colin Creevey, maybe?" Ron had sniggered and left.

Ginny had been brooding for days after that. Was she really wasting her life? It's not like she spend her life trailing after Harry, giggling and flirting with him, like she had seen Pansy Parkinson flirt with Draco Malfoy. It only showed when Harry came near her ... and in her sleep.

No, she decided, she wasn't wasting her life. Harry was just a major part, that was all.

Sometimes, however, it all came to be a bit too much for her too handle. The exasperation, the anger, the frustration, the hopelessness of the situation ... was life really worth living?

Ginny stared at the picture. Harry was flying in it, playing Quidditch ... against Hufflepuff, was it? She'd forgotten. All it had mattered was that she had had a picture of Harry. Colin, of course, had given it to her, saying that it was a bit too blurry for his own collection, and he'd been thinking of her, and would she like to have it? Of course she would. She'd even had one of her roommates enlarge it for her to poster-size. Ginny then had Hermione enchant it so that when other people, except for herself and Hermione, looked at it, saw only a regular wizarding poster. She didn't know what they saw; Hermione had never told her, but Hermione had assured Ginny it wasn't anything embarrassing. Ginny trusted Hermione enough to leave the matter alone.

As a result of that charm, she could sit on her bed, gazing at the poster for hours, while others would only think she was looking at that picture of whatever-it-was.

Sometimes it simply saddened her, however. She would lie down, smothered beneath the blankets, crying silently. Would Harry ever consider her at all? Was she even a potential candidate? Or was she just ... Ron's little sister?

She hated that. Ron's Little Sister.

It was starting to get chilly now, as lightning crashed. Ginny broke into a new torrent of tears. Oh, was this any use at all? Was she just going to spend the rest of her life loving some boy who didn't even know she existed? Well, he did, but he certainly didn't think of her as someone he might fancy. But still ... it was so depressing, and Ginny despaired. "Get on with your life ..." Ron's voice echoed through her mind.

She thought back to the inscription on the Mirror of Erised. I show you not your face but your heart's desire.

Ginny wished she had stayed, yet she knew she wouldn't have appreciated it if her heart's deepest desire was revealed to her. So she just stood there, at the large, clouded window, shivering, crying, thinking of Harry.

Always thinking of Harry.

The clock chimed six o'clock. An hour had passed. An hour, thinking of Harry. As if on cue, lighting flashed and thunder rumbled not far behind.

Someday, she thought, as a tear slid down the bridge of her nose. Someday ... and what will happen then? Will I finally stop loving him? Or will I just be that sad, little spectacle at his wedding, watching him dance with his bride, whomever it may be? Maybe a Last Dance with him, but nothing more. He'd be thinking of his wife the whole time while she was in his arms.

She didn't think she would ever stop loving him, though. It hurt, inside, it was like a pain, festering, blistering, growing. It ached and throbbed, but there was nothing she could do about it.

Well, she thought, I'm no angel. I doubt I'll be able to stand there, smile, and wave at his bride, congratulate her. I'll probably scream and stamp off in a rage, more like. Maybe even tear the bride's veil off as an emphasis.

Ginny sighed. I'm no angel, she thought. Is that why Harry doesn't like me? Because I'm not perfect, like Cho or Hermione? I'm no angel ...

The tears poured down her face. Is this life really worth living? Or should she ...

Ginny shook the idea from her mind. Of course not.

Still, the thoughts ran through her mind. I'm no angel ...

I'm no angel, but please don't think that I can't cry

I'm no angel, but does that mean that I won't fly?

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finis 1/1

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Author's Note: Please read and review. It's only feedback that inspires me to go forth and write more ...