Voided Tangent
Disclaimer: I wish I owned these characters! Needless to say, characters in this fic belong to JK Rowling, and it counts for all chapters. I also got my inspiration for this fic from a book called My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult. It's about a sick girl called Kate and her sister Anna who was genetically conceived to donate body parts and blood etc to her sister. It's one of those books that you just don't forget. GO TO YOUR LOCAL LIBRARY AND READ NOW!
To people who read My Study Partner and are still waiting for the sequel… please don't shoot me. ( I have been caught up with life and I have to admit to myself… I couldn't find any inspiration to continue the story. I haven't given up, I still plan to finish it, but I needed something new to work with, so there is this fic. Thank you if you still follow my fics, I really, really do appreciate it.
A word of warning, I will not be updating this fic madly since I would die of exhaustion. An updated chapter may appear within four days or a week, it depends on how busy I get.
(Btw. I haven't actually read the HP books in a while so I may change some of the plots and the actions. Please note that I have considered this and some things will be different from the original text.)
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May 3rd, 2006
Dear diary? Merlin, no. Not after my second year. Maybe I don't need to address you. Well… anyway, here I am, Ginny Weasley, in all my twenty three years of glory sitting on my couch with this new diary I bought in Diagon Alley today. Ever since I received the news about my sickness… I don't know, I've had this gnawing desire to pen my thoughts and memory to paper.
Where to start? I'm not sure… maybe I should really start with who I am. Again… my name is Ginny Weasley. I'm twenty three and I'm dying. I have cancer… don't ask where because there will be a list. I have long red hair. Real, red hair, not that carroty orange stuff. I have pale skin and my fiancé says I'm entirely too thin. Sometimes I just feel too tired to eat…
I want someone to read this. When I'm long gone, when everybody forgets, I need someone to remember. Everyone was so upset about my diagnosis, and scared, scared for me. My cancers are incurable. I'm scared. I'm scared of loneliness but I don't want to admit it. Melodramatic of me, I know, but I want people to read this after I'm dead. Growing up with a big family with six brothers, jeez, you'd think I'd have lots of company but sometimes there's just too much. Only one other person understands and can cure the aching lonliness, but I'm going to hurt him in return.
Merlin, reading back, I'm going in circles. But I think in circles. Also, I'm too tired to get my wand to fix the errors which is in the kitchen. Always too tired. I think I'll just leave them. If you knew me well enough, you know that I can be confusing.
I'll start from the beginning… I suppose. Usual, get born, go through your baby can't do nothing stage, grow rapidly into a toddler and whinge for that mini broom with pink electric stripes that costs more than your father earns in a year. Then you enter that awkward 9-12 years of age stage where you're stuck with being a girly girl and a tomboy, where interests dip and sway and you desperately crave attention. I was definitely very tomboy-ish at that age. It comes with living with Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George and Ron, all notably masculine names. Mum wasn't too pleased. I suppose sometimes she just wasn't used to raising a girl.
Oh god. Harry Potter. He's every little eleven year old girl's dream. Let me count the ways why I loved him at the time. 1. He was the saviour of the Wizarding world. 2. He was my closest brother's best friend. 3. He was really, really cute. 4. He was nice. How could have I resisted? The real hammer on the nail was when he saved me. Sure, whatever. I was possessed by a diary, summoned up a deadly snake, got trapped in an underground lair, blah blah, story of my life. I was infatuated with Harry.
Well, anyway, I didn't have the guts to hook in with him, seeing as I was just a little girl who had survived a near death experience so I settled with admiring from afar. There was just so much to admire. His hair was pretty. (Yes! I thought "pretty!") He had wicked (in the good sense) green eyes that were startling and he was Harry Potter, the boy who lived and saved me. In retrospect, it was embarrassing how I crushed on him so badly and obviously, but hey, I was a little girl.
Life goes on. I became friends with Colin Creevey and Luna Lovegood. Not just forget-me-as-life-goes-on friends, real, true friends who stick with you after it seems like there's nothing left of each other to stick to. We played in the sun a lot. I got lots of freckles. My scarlet hair highlighted to orange in some places. Life was so simple. I was scared of Snape and what McGonagal would say if I was late to her transfig. class. I was happy. Because I was a child.
And then my fourteenth rolled by and then, I wasn't really that childish. Thinking back, I remember standing in front of the mirror starkers; and thinking wow, I never looked like this before. It was nice, knowing I was breaking out of this child/teen limbo stage. I felt older. I looked older. Whenever I went out with Colin in muggle London during the holidays men honked the horns of their cars at me whilst Colin shook his fist at them and made me laugh. It was a bit harder in Wizarding London, since a) the majority of wizards and witches didn't use cars and b) my robes were very bulky. But yeah, it's damn pathetic that guys waste petrol driving up and down roads blasting horns at girls, but for someone who had just broken out of their shell, it was damn nice, being noticed for once.
And I would know about wanting to be noticed.
Fourteen years old was a turning point in my rather plain life. Like mentioned before, boys. I'm grinning. Honestly. I'm such a slut. As my fiancé likes to remind me continuously. We have weird senses of humour and I love him so.
Fourteen is where I helped Harry and the whole adventure with the thestrals. It was one of those moments in my life that made my existence really interesting. It was one of the moments where you truly felt alive, and you acknowledged how mundane and safe life was before. It reminds you how fragile you are. Then life settles back into its steady routine and you find comfort in that too.
Harry was still the object of my affections, but I knew I didn't have a chance so I figured, with my new found sense of a curvy body, screw it. Move on. Keep a little corner of your heart there for him but just fucking move on. Flirting. Now that, was fun. Retrospectively, and there are going to be a lot of retrospective views here, I was pretty much a whore! Luna and I, bless her true oddities, wouldn't sleep with all the guys, we weren't that bad, but we did have competitions to see how many guys we could pash at parties before the nights end. The loser had to write each other's essays.
Oh god. Those were the days.
Of course, HarryRonandHermione, (for fuck's sake, their names are like one word) didn't notice. I don't blame them, but they were always too caught up in their own personal adventure and friendship to pay over-attention to the student grapevine of Hogwarts. Harry was quite unaware of my ferocious and flighty party antics and still didn't pay me much attention. Fine, I was cool with that.
My life revolves around the idea that you get what you give. If I was patient enough, if I worked hard enough, if I hoped enough, great things will come my way. You have to pay. I knew that. Everything comes at a price and I fully embraced this. It gave me my strength. It lets me justify my life and it helps me sleep at night.
Oh wow. Then I turned fifteen and I got my break.
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This is just a memory…
"Oh for god's sake Dean," I yell, my harsh voice echoing off the walls of the prefects bathroom. I am clutching a towel to my body trying to dry it off and Dean is doing the same. We are both glaring intensely at each other. I'd invited him to come take a bath with me with the intention to have some "fun." But not the "let's lose our virginity" type of fun. I'm only in my freaking fifth year.
To hell and back, fucking Merlin, what was I thinking? How stupid am I to think that one thing wouldn't lead to another?
So we're in that massive tub, nearly drowning because we're put our breathing on hold and then his hands start going there… so I stop him. Why can't he just wank? Of course he has to go blow his top off at me. You know what he said? Do you know what he said? He reckoned I didn't want to give myself up because I was saving myself for Potter!
Which was true.
But still!
Presumptuous bastard!
So we finally get dressed and I do a quick drying charm on my hair. I see him shivering and he's still glaring so I fold my arms over my chest and glare right back at him. It's a battle of wills for long moments then I win and he stomps off, rivulets of water streaming down his dark neck from his equally dark hair.
I'm not upset. I'm not pissed off. I'm not scared. He's gone and I'm surprised how I don't give a toss. Well… yeah anyway. Things haven't been going well with us. He's so cocky, jealous and annoying. I used to just ignore that because he is pretty damn hot, but now I just want to punch him. I'm going to have to break up with him soon, else I murder him.
So I ignore him for a week or so. One night at dinner, he comes up to me with one of his sweet smiles and I feel my soothed anger completely dissipate and I agree to have a study session in the library, which is another way of saying we'll half-heartedly jab at our homework whilst play footsies underneath the table and sneak kisses when Pince has her back turned. Things are back to normal and he's obviously gone and wanked to lose some of his freaking sexual tension.
Looked as if life was going to go back to normal. I give Colin a chaste but warm hug when he tells me he got accepted into a muggle photography camp during the summer holidays. Then, and this really freaked me out, Dean melted out of one of the many shadows Hogwarts has at night and just glared daggers at me after Colin's gone.
"Why don't you just invite Creevey over to join us and we'll have a little fuck session. Oh wait. You're just too much of a prude," he hissed. I was taken aback for a moment at the cruelty laced with his words but I got my wits together.
"Fuck. You. Dean," I breathed out in a soft voice. I can feel the roar of anger in my ears and my fingers are dragging into fists.
"No. You could never quite, you freak. What the hell is wrong with you Ginny?" Dean taunted. I never answered. Not verbally anyway. My fist connects with his jawbone so fast that it surprised me even. I heard this loud crack and Dean just sank. I was still swimming with anger but it was diluted with the anger outlet of violence.
I hear this drawling voice behind me saying "nice one Weaslette. I've always wanted to do that myself."
Oh god, it was Malfoy the prefect. Malfoy being a prefect was one of those twisted, odd things. It was stupid. His whole freaking persona had nothing to do with abiding the rules yet he gets roles like: responsible member of the Hogwarts student body!
Ugh. And then Malfoy goes and does the oddest thing. He reaches out with his hand at gently flexes out the fist that I punched Dean with and rubs it softly. It feels good, which is weird.
"Nothing wrong with your hand. That's a good strong fist you have," and he smirked evilly and enigmatically. "Run along Weasley, I'll deal with this Gryffindor wanker." he commands and I'm just too shocked to do anything. Dean's groaning on the floor and I just don't want to deal with him so I do as he says.
It turns out that Malfoy said to Pomfrey that Dean got into a punch up but the other "guy" ran away before Malfoy could do anything. Dean had a broken jaw, but even if he didn't, he wouldn't admit he got beat up by a girl. Who happened to be his ex-girlfriend. I take much pleasure in that.
Now… is it just me? Or is Harry looking at me strangely…?
Without Dean in the picture now, I focus my attention on the two most important things in my life. One, is being a tool with Colin and Luna, and in general, having an wicked fun time, and two, kicking arse as my position as chaser on the Gryffindor quidditch team.
Time passes. I'm kicking off from the ground fast at Hooch's whistle. My special (yet ancient) edition Comet 370 knows me like the back of my hand. I catch the quaffle, I dive to dodge a bludger, I swerve to avoid Malfoy who is snitch searching and I hurl the quaffle at Angie. Flying towards her as fast as possible, I catch the quaffle again and slide it through one of the hoops. Slytherin's keeper doesn't have a chance.
Again and again, quaffle interchanges, bitchy remarks swapped around from team member to team member… Harry catching the snitch.
We've won the fucking Quidditch Cup! Just before Ron nearly bowls me over in mid-air, I can see Draco directly ahead of me. His shock and bitter disappointment is almost tangible and I feel for him momentarily before I bask in the sweet, sweet glory of fucking victory! God, I'm so happy. There's so much noise. Gryffindor colour everywhere, everyone telling me I did a great job.
I don't know how I made it back to the common room.
I don't know how all this food got here.
I don't know why, but Harry is suddenly kissing me and I can't breathe and I don't care because I can't feel anything except for how good everything feels altogether.
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I'm definitely a girl of colourful languages. Mum, when you read this, I'm sorry. I don't use profanity all the time, but it's just a part of me. It's a part of my personality which is in the now. I guess there's a little bit of my life story. Riveting. I knew that if I waited patiently Harry would come around. I'm good like that. I was always the girl who everybody loved, but ignored.
It's starting to rain heavily outside and the sound is comforting. My sexy lover boy should be coming back soon. One of those Ministry corporate dinners they have. Tonight, I feel especially tired and I swear I can feel the medication coursing through my veins.
Sixteen was all about my individuality. Oh sweet sixteen.
Sixteen was when the most important thing in my life came into my life. He is more important than my living at all. He's the one who made me love him so much it was painful. He's the one who made me open my eyes.
Gods, this dodgey quill doesn't do how much I care about him justice. The damage he's done to me is irrevocable, I've completely given myself up to him, and I have him in return.
And he's always coming back to me, even on this rainy night where I'm lazing on his couch and getting ink stains on his cushions. Even if I look and feel like a lump of shit, he's always there, with his soothing hands, his soft platinum hair and his enigmatic, evil, loving, smirk.
Yeah. Did you ever see it coming? Did you ever think I could love the amazing ferret so much?
It was as unexpected, as potent, as life-consuming and demanding as dying with terminal cancer.
If it were Draco Malfoy and the terminal cancer, or no cancer and no Draco at all? I don't have to think twice. Life always comes with the good and the bad. But I luck out on this occasion though, Draco far outweighs the bad. I have never had a doubt about that.
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