AN: I started writing this and published it ages ago under the title of 'You Saved Me' but lost interest in it. I've finally come back, changed the title and edited the plot. I'm uploading five chapters at once then waiting for some reviews to see if I should continue. :)
Before I went insane, I used to think of him. Every night. Without fail. Of what he was, of what we could have been. I used to cry a fair bit, too, you know. But only when my brothers weren't around. Merlin knows they would have teased me to no end if they found out.
I used to think of the time he saved me in the Chamber of Secrets, how it nearly killed him, how he refused to accept a word of thanks.
I used to think of the first time he kissed me seven years ago in the Gryffindor common room in front of everyone, and how he simply didn't care. Or perhaps it was the testosterone. Either way, I wanted to slap him, although I did revel in the attention of being his 'girlfriend'.
I remember every time we fought, when I asked him to slow down and just listento me because I thought he didn't care; I thought he had stopped loving me. And every single time he would look confused and dejected, not understanding what I was saying, not comprehending that we simply weren't… working. It broke my heart.
I remember watching as our marriage inevitably disintegrated, as he slowly became more and more involved with his work- as he took less and less interest in me. That was, until the day I found the courage to pick up my bags and leave him- my teenage idol, my lover, my husband, the Boy Who Lived.
I didn't return his Owls, I made sure I was untraceable, I -
'Ginny!' I heard Hermione's voice ring shrilly from downstairs.
'Yeah? I'm still up here!'
'Merlin, are you still moping around in bed? We have work today, you know.'
I sighed, and closed my journal, hiding it under my mattress. It wasn't that I didn't trust Hermione, but, you know… She was Hermione.
I had a lot to thank her for. And I mean a lot. She had been providing me with a house, a bed and a job for almost a year after my marriage with Harry ended. And she wouldn't let me move out or buy all the food when I protested at her over-zealous generosity- she seemed to like my company.
'Oi, Ginny! Breakfast is getting cold, and work is in… twenty minutes! Shit, Ginny! Hurry up!'
'I'm coming, I'm coming, keep your pants on!', I yelled as I finished putting my top on and ran down the stairs, tripping and nearly breaking my bloody neck on the way down.
'There you are. I was worried you had run away, or gone back to sleep again. I made poached eggs and toast, it's not amazing but we're running out of time…'
She checked her watch anxiously, her hair growing bushier by the second with stress.
I reached up and ruffled her hair, much to her annoyance.
'Chill, Hermione, seriously. I'm dressed, I'm eating, you're ready- we're fine. Breathe.'
Hermione rolled her eyes and headed back to the kitchen, presumably to clean up while she waited for me. I frowned.
She never used to be this anxious, not even when we were back at school and she was taking double the standard amount of subjects with exams every week. I often wondered if it was because she was so stubborn; never letting anyone help her. But every time I tried telling her to calm down or to get a boyfriend to help her de-stress, she'd laugh and say that after Ron, she didn't need another boyfriend- they were all 'far too much maintenance'. Of course she would say that.
I did have to agree with her though.
Placing my knife and fork down on my half-empty plate, I yelled out to Hermione that I was done. She sprinted in and grabbed my hand, ready to apparate. But before she did, she looked down at what I was wearing and grinned.
'Your shirt's on back to front'.
AN: Well, here it is. The story has restarted itself after all this time. Reviews please! Tell me what you think. xx