Whoa. Slow down. I changed my name. Yes. Also... THIS ISN'T NARUTO RELATED.
This is Harry Potter. My other love. I was reading a Dracoginny that had it's good points. A lot of good points. But I thought I could do the same couple differently. Perhaps better, perhaps worse.
This is the product of that thought.
I apologize for those having put me on their "Watch this reader!" lists if you don't like Harry Potter. But if you have it in your heart to step away from anime, I'm still the same writer. This is only a different topic.
This story is narrated using free indirect discourse, which means that, although the all-knowing narrator speaks in the third person, they often relates things from the point of view of whoever the segment of the chapter focuses on and describes things in language one might imagine Draco or Ginny using. This is my most used literary tool, as the narrator of the story and the main characters blend with the narrator at certain points. So there's that. Just defining it to you readers.
I feel it allows the readers to understand the characters more, especially ones so complex as Ginny and Draco.
Phew. Now that I understand and can put to words my literary styles, I feel like I should say them. Bwahahaha!
Ho hum.
Love you guys.
Dear Diary,
My name is Ginny Weasley. I'm 5' 3", with flaming, long, wavy hair and hazel eyes yadda yadda yadda. Whatever. I'm me. Deal with it.
I'm really not the type of girl who has a diary. I say (often yell) my thoughts out loud, so I don't have to write them in a cute little journal. I pull pranks and actively participate in "not sober in school" activities. I know what you're thinking: Why is she writing in a diary then? Well, the answer is simple. Because I'm mad.
Mad mad mad.
Can I say something confidential? Why yes Ginny, you may. This is a secret diary after all! Thanks!
I'm not talking to myself, I'm talking to my diary, duh. It's funny, in my mind, when I suddenly write in cursive, indicating the diary-voice, I totally imagine a man speaking. Like a very proper, well-bred englishman.
Moving on. Confidentiality coming up.
Harry Potter is a bad kisser.
Whaaaaat? Who said that?
There's no way that could be true. He's the hero of the world, after all! He's automatically good at bloody everything!
I tell you, diary, it's true. This terrible fact leads to my anger. When we're snogging, I can just barely get into it because I'm thinking: this bloody sucks. The situation sucks, but he doesn't. I mean like, he can't suck. He has no suction power.
I know, I know, it's just a thing that humans do, right? Sucking, say, through a straw? I know Harry had a terrible upbringing, but I refuse to believe that he never learned to suck on a straw. He was trying to give me a hickey the other day and it was weird. He was just kinda licking. And when he gets to my boobs? More of that "kinda licking". No fun, this bloke.
Oh yeah, I'm dating Harry Potter. Bullocks, I'm bad at this narrator thing. I just assume you know what I'm thinking at all times. Which technically you do, because you are me? Something like that.
At first it was all, Ohemgee Harry Potter lieks me he's the greatest evaa! (Complete with a lack of punctuation and spelling). Yes, I was a smitten kitten for 6 years. But I never for a second imagined that he'd be a shitty kisser.
I'm trying to kind of teach him and stuff but to no avail. He just assumes he's doing everything right, probably thinking, "Since I'm Harry Potter, everything I do is perfect!"
Go pitch that to Romilda Vane, Harry.
We've boyfriend and girlfriend, but we've never gone on a date. He just started liking me and I, being infatuated, completely welcomed it. And then BAM we're connected. We don't even really spend time together. I'm just this object he takes out all his many many problems on. "Ginny, my head hurts... Ginny, I don't want to do this anymore... Ginny, you don't understand!"
That's mainly the reason I'm mad, not the bad kissing.
And so I'm going to break up with him.
Whoa. I had no intention of breaking it off with him when I started writing this. But... I know I want to. I know I'm done. Maybe writing out your thoughts is good. It led me to a place I needed to get to.
I'm not okay with him just taking things out on me. As if no matter what, I'll stay by his side. Sorry, babe, but I was never part of the Golden Trio, so my life does not revolve around you.
I'm not your thing. I'll define myself, thankyouverymuch.
The infatuation has passed. I'm not blinded anymore. I love and admire him, but more as a friend. I know that now. If I break up with him, he'll have one less responsibility, which quite frankly is good news for the future of the world.
Perhaps I'm being selfish. Voldemort is out there and everything, and he has to find the Horcruxes. There are bigger problems than mine. But I'm not going to wait to have all of his attention. I'm not going to wait to be prioritized.
I'm prioritizing myself, seeing as no one else bloody seems to. He's not the only one allowed to save the world. Other people can be heroes too, I'll show him.
Dear Harry-pie,
I'm not your punching bag. And if I were, I'd charm myself a pair of legs and walk away. That's what I'm doing. So I guess I was your punching bag. Now I'm one with legs, and I'm leaving to save the world.
XOXO, Ginners.
That's exactly what I'm going to say. I'm going to memorize that and say it to him next time he takes his anger out on me.
He has to learn that good things don't just fall into his lap. Responsibility is a big thing. And I'm responsible for my own happiness.
Oooh, I'll say that too!
We owe that to each other, I think. He has his commitments to being the hero of the world, and I have mine towards myself.
THANK YOU, DIARY-MAN, FOR GIVING ME A CONSTRUCTIVE OUTLET.
This punching bag is walking on her own. I'm not just what Harry Potter and my family want me to be. I'll find my own way.
Till next time.
Draco Malfoy took his platinum blonde head off the Slytherin table in the Great Hall sleepily, bleary eyes taking in a sight he didn't want to.
"Drakiiiiiiiiiie! You're awake!"
That being the inhumanly chipper face of Pansy Parkinson, beaming at him from across the table. It was far too early for that. Flanking her were Crabbe and Goyle, trying to hold back their sniggers at the poison stare issuing from Draco's silver eyes.
Apparently the orange juice Pansy was drinking held the antidote to his poison stare, as it had no effect. Fuck.
"We're you waiting for me?" He asked snottily, laying his head on his arms.
"You've gotta stop staying up till dawn, mate." Blaise Zabini sat down on Draco's right side. "Doing... who, exactly?"
Draco sighed and revealed his eyes, but kept the rest of his face hidden in his elbow/pillow. He stared into the clear pitcher of orange juice aimlessly. "Stuff... wait, no, Blaise. No one. I'm just doing... stuff."
Walked into that one. Nice blokes, taking advantage of him in his sleepy state.
"Ooh! What have you been up to?" Pansy leaned over the table, just to be a few more inches closer.
Walking. Night walks are the best thing for your complexion, you know. He considered saying that out loud, but then Pansy might take his advice and ruin her appearance even more. Being sickly pale wasn't the best look, unless you were Draco Malfoy, of course. There was definitely a rumor going around that he was a vampire, after all.
"For Merlin's sake, Harry! I'm not your bloody punching bag!"
Most of the Great Hall opened their ears to the shouting of one Ginevra Weasley. Draco had a perfect view of her where she stood, across the Gryffindor table from Potter. He could see him draw back in surprise, but not his face. That would have been priceless.
"And if I were, I'd charm myself a pair of legs and walk away." The Little Weasley was no longer shouting, but just informing. Still, her hair was riled up, indicating the magical storm of emotion inside. Draco looked at her, knowing no one would see him doing it.
She was beautiful.
"That's what I'm going to do. I was your punching bag. Now I'm a punching bag with legs, and I'm leaving to save the world."
Draco stifled a chuckle. What an eloquent girl. Well, young woman suited her better. Looking around the hall, he saw that everyone was listening now. Good. That made it more embarrassing for the wonderful Harry Potter.
Wait, she's breaking up with him! He realized with a start. Hey, he was sleep-deprived.
"Ginny, wait a sec--" Potter made out, still sitting as the criminal under the megaton force of Judge Ginevra.
"Responsibility is a big thing, Harry." she interrupted lightly, but her hair still floated about. Very magically powerful, that one. "We owe it to each other to uphold our own commitments."
"You are responsible for being the hero of the world. That leaves no time for something like you and me. I'm responsible for my own happiness, so I'm breaking this off." She finalized with a nod and a pretty smile. "Oh, and you have egg on your lip."
Unable to take that last bit, Most of the Slytherin table burst out laughing with the exception of their resident blond. Draco could see Potter's ears turn red, a fraction of the heat on his face. Sucks for Potter. The Little Weasley has got a rack.
"See you later, Harry." She nodded, her hair finally deflating to it's normal, albeit large volume.
As she left there was a chorus of "Sucks, Potter..." and other, far cruder comments from his table, and Draco sighed. Embarrassment for Potter no longer held the same charm, or any at all, anymore. This school is too high on gossip. There are other things to think about, you know... His eyes drifted to his left forearm. Potter and Little Weasley aren't the only ones with commitments.
Harry Potter needed to save the world, Ginny Weasley needed freedom, and Draco Malfoy needed to get out of this with his life.
Starting with kicking arse on his NEWTs. Maybe if he showed himself as not another pawn, he's be better off. Meaning becoming a scholastic powerhouse. His night walks ended with night spell practice and study in the room of requirement. He was more focused in the late hours of the day, in the darkness and could listen to himself, and realize what he really wanted.
It certainly was no longer his father's acceptance. Nor the power promised by the Dark Lord. It was simply... to be free of expectations and plans. To find his own way.
"Draco, mate, we've got Potions in 5 minutes." Blaise called, shoving him a little.
Drawn out of his thoughts, Draco stood up and stretched. He recently became very good at potions. He always had it in him, but since first year he had competed against Potter and never did it for himself. That had changed as of late.
So had he.
Ginny walked (late) into Double Charms to a grand applause from the Slytherins there. Oh grand, I share this class with all the snakes.
"Weasley... well done. To think a blood traitor would break Potter's heart--"
"--Did you see his face--"
"--Egg on his lip, bloody fantast--"
"--This boy here'll treat you right, ba--"
"--Cheers to you, miss."
Striding to her spot confidently, she turned to them with a cute smile. "I did it all for you guys."
She didn't mind the Slytherins sometimes. Ginny prided herself on her ability to be open minded with people around her. Being in Slytherin didn't make you bad. Yes, some of the comments were shitty, but that only came from one person in the class anyway. The jealous bitch. Sorry for being prettier than you, skank.
Adorable Professor Flitwick started the lesson at that moment, cutting short the cheering. Taking a deep breath she began taking notes on the lecture, but found her concentration slipping.
She did not regret it. Her mind, body, and heart supported it. It was logical, it would allow him to pay attention to saving mankind. Good. She smiled to herself. There was a load off her shoulders now. Ginny felt like she could fly. In fact...
I take a good night fly around the school tonight. That sounds bloody fantastic.
A tad bit happier at the prospect, Ginny lapsed into a contented stupor. She watched as Flitwick levitated himself to be able to point at a high part of the chalk board. Cute.
What did she want now? A boyfriend? Hell the bloody fuck no. There certainly was something she wanted that Harry could never give her. Oh yes. A good hook up. An orgasm. Yum. She curled her toes at the thought.
But who? For historical reasons she didn't want to dabble in the Gryffindor house. Harry was there, as was Ron. She had dated a 7th year Ravenclaw for a brief spell last year, so she wasn't shy to the prospect of another house. But the question of the boy still loomed.
As she sorted through her mental list of snog-worthy boys, a paper bird flew into her eyesight. Snapping out of her reverie, she saw it land on her desk and flap it's wings before turning back into a still origami bird. Without looking for the sender, she unfolded it in her lap, taking care not to rip it.
If you ever need a quickie, I'd treat your hot arse right. Just say the word.
-R.W.
Sighing, Ginny looked over to the Slytherin side of the room, seeing Rowan Walker make a kissy-face at her. She was not in the mood for this.
She raised her hand lightly, catching Flitwick's attention.
"Yes, Miss Weasley?"
Ginny smiled her cutest smile. "Mr. Walker gave me this to give to you." With a hidden tap of her wand, the creases disappeared and the note sealed itself with her conjured wax.
"Did he, now?" Flitwick's small eyes darted to Walker before waving his wand, summoning the note from Ginny's outstretched hand.
The horror on Walker's face made her almost start laughing, but she held it in. Instead upholding a look of polite curiosity, Ginny said, "He wanted to make sure it got to you, sir."
Walker's face was white as parchment. Tiny professor Flitwick read over the note with no discernible expression on his wrinkled face.
"Detention, Mr. Walker. And 50 points from Slytherin. Such pranks are... are..." he adorably struggled for the words, "... perverse and horrid! You are to report to Mr. Filch for your detention at 8 o'clock. Disgusting."
Ginny could barely hold it in now. She had to hold her breath and clasp her hand over her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. Her neighbor Gryffindor, Melanie Meadows, began to catch on.
After throwing a smirk to Ginny, she raised her own hand. "Professor, what did the note say?"
"Never you mind, Miss Meadows" He muttered, his ears reddening.
"Well... I heard from somewhere that the greatest punishment is public shame..." Melanie said lightly, shrugging. Ginny liked her. Mel was one of the friends she had always could count on. They shared a dorm. She had brown hair cut into a bob, with straight-cut bangs going to her eyebrows, blue eyes, and a thin body.
Flitwick considered her statement for a moment before banishing the paper back to Ginny. "Well then, Miss Weasley, will you please read this aloud to the class?"
"Yes, sir." Ginny chirped, standing up in her spot. "Ahem," She caught Walker's eye and sent him a smirk before reading out loud. "If you ever need a quickie, I'd treat your hot arse right. Just say the word. From Rowan Walker."
Mel was completely right. Public humiliation was the greatest form of punishment.
"That Weasel Girl is a dirty bitch."
Draco's ears flicked towards the conversation. Little Weasley is just the topic of today, isn't she? What did she do now? He wondered, taking off the book that was covering his eyes as he reclined in one of the chairs by the fire. His free hour had just begun, and he was trying to get some rest. No way that was possible now with Walker and his gang making noise.
He was standing angrily, surrounded by people who came around to see what was up. "She got me a detention and 50 points docked from Flitwick. Flitwick! The softest teacher here!"
"I'm sure it was your fault, Walker." Draco muttered, sitting up in his seat and stretching.
The crowd parted as their king spoke. There was no doubt that Draco was the king of Slytherin, but Walker, his second-coming, was the prince. He was next in line, but for now couldn't go against the mighty Draco. Social structure was a funny thing.
"Well, yes, but she..." He struggled with his words, "The bitch gave Flitwick a note to her that she said was for him from me."
"What was in the note?" Draco asked, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, on top of someone's abandoned homework.
Walker's handsome face darkened.
"Sexual advances, I take it." He laughed, interpreting his anger correctly. "The Little Weasley schooled you, Walker."
What a interesting girl, the Gryffindor princess.
Finally standing, Draco took one last look at Walker and his gang. "Shouldn't you be in class?"
Walker glared before motioning with his head for him and his group of 4 to go, leaving Draco alone.
"For Merlin's sake..." he muttered, running his hand through his messy locks. Walker was a handful. But he had more pressing problems.
Like, for example, how to get out of Voldemort's inner circle alive. He was in deep. Too deep. Draco had never even wanted it, really. Moved by his father's pushing and the undeniable attraction of evil, he had joined and been branded.
But killing people just... He didn't have it in him. His father beat it into him that it was a weakness he must get over. To be strong was to be able to kill, and Malfoy's were strong.
Draco thought differently.
It wasn't strength, it was fear that drove other's to kill. He didn't want to kill. Nor did he want to die. He never planned to be in this far. He needed out.
"The only way out is to die, Draco." Severus had a firm grip on his arm. It was the morning before he was due to give himself to the Dark Lord.
Draco looked up at his teacher with scorn. "I'm ready."
"You think so?" he snarled, throwing Draco's arm away as if it burned him. "Then kill me."
"What?" Draco asked, backing away. The cocky determination in his eyes left in the wake of surprised fear.
"Now."
They were caught in a standoff. Draco was frozen, his hand hovering over the pocket that held his wand. Severus was standing with his arms outstretched, giving him an open shot.
Suddenly Draco narrowed his eyes, thinking of a way to get out of this. Then imagination struck like a bolt. "I only kill for the Dark Lord. No one else."
A clapping was heard behind Draco, and his was was in his hand in an instant. It was his father, walking slowly towards him.
"You passed, Draco." He called, grinning savagely. "As Malfoys do."
"What do you mean?" Draco asked, lowering his wand yet keeping a tight grip. His father was in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"A test." Severus Snape said, spitting the word. "Designed by the Dark Lord and given to potential members of his... innermost circle. Only if you kill for him does he deem you worthy of his attention."
Draco stood there open-mouthed. In his attempt to avoid being drawn in, he had only dug deeper.
"Well done, son. I shall see you tonight."
With that, his father turned heel and left the way he came. Severus now approached his motionless student who stared at his father's retreating back.
"You must remember." He whispered into Draco's ear, causing him to flinch. "The only way out is to die."
When Draco whipped around, no one was in the dark hall. It was empty of everything but his own fear.
To die. Severus had tried to warn him, had tried to save him, but Draco had been too frightened to see it. That was nearly 2 years ago. Nothing had changed within him save for a further abhorrence towards murder. He was in deep, surrounded by the family that raised him.
A life of servitude, or no life at all. He thought, laughing in bad humor. But at least with the latter, no one else dies by my hand.
"I don't want to die." He said aloud, putting his hands over his face. The word 'die' echoed around the common room, mocking him. Maybe he should just die. End it here and now. He glanced at his wand, lying on the table.
A handy tool, the wand. It could create and it could destroy.
As long as the wielder had enough strength to do so.
Enough of this. He thought savagely, shaking his head as if to clear it of his suicidal thoughts. Picking up his wand and swinging his bag over his shoulder, Draco strode out of the common room.
He knew there was fire whiskey in the kitchens. Solo drinking was classy as hell, after all.
Ginny Weasley was undoubtedly a good flier. She had an amazing control over her broom to the point where her she nearly flew it on thought and will alone. It's wasn't the newest model, actually, it was Fred's old one, but it worked.
A sword in the hands of a novice is nothing against a rock in the hands of a master. Harry could fly his Firebolt and look all cool, but she doubt he would be as good as she was on her Cleansweep.
It was a little past midnight. Ginny had disillusioned her body and her broom and was currently doing tricks in the air, far above the lake. She would spin, curve, and dive, all with her eyes closed, imagining it. Suddenly she opened her eyes and flew straight up, heading towards the moon slowly.
The night was warm and a little breezy; cloudless, with a nearly full moon. Coming to a halt high in the air, Ginny simply sat and stared at the moon.
Though more of a sunny girl herself, the moon nonetheless had a dark, sort of evil attraction. Like the night. Darkness was appealing, but she preferred to stay mainly in the light. That being the reason she loved her monthly night rides. To be blanketed in darkness once in a while was new and exciting.
Darkness and light both have their glory. She reflected calmly, smiling. One isn't particularly better than the other.
On a whim, she decided to fly back towards school, perhaps to lap it a few times. She was getting a little tired, anyway.
Maybe drinking wasn't such a good idea...Draco thought to himself lightly. He was on the roof of the astronomy tower. He wasn't drunk, but most certainly not sober.
Then again, with one slip of the foot, I could just... die. I could be free. I'd be out. People would be saved. I'd be a hero in my own right. He laughed without humor.
Suddenly he jumped up on the edge, showing remarkable balance despite his inebriation. Draco looked over the grounds and the surrounding mountains, then to the stars and the moon.
I'm so small. He thought, closing his eyes. Inconsequential. What does one death mean to the universe?
But, he reasoned, the universe is relative to ones self. The only world he lived in was his own, and so his death would strike a chord. Apart from the fact that he'd be dead, the people around him would be effected. Their universes would be effected.
But at least they'd be alive. I may be forced to kill them this year. That'd cause the same universal stir.
A calm gust of wind blew past, but he didn't lose a lick of his balance. He took a deep breath as it passed, imaging himself a part of the element itself. June birthdays do lead to an affinity with wind, to be sure. Thank you astronomy class.
He continued to take deep breaths, fighting with himself. Just one step. One small step and the fight would end. One decision. One life. One...
"Is this suicide, Mr. Malfoy?"
Ah, it's the topic of the day, in the flesh.
For Emy.