Repetition, Final
'Ah, this isn't so unfamiliar,' Ginny muses in that part of her brain that is completely separate from her normal thoughts, as Arthur's fingers press into the skin at her hip that Tom once traced with the tip of his fingernail.
Ginny's far past screaming. She did it the first couple of times, in the pale grey moonlight and smoldering heat, but its midsummer now and the screams are long gone. It wasn't for fear of the act that she cried out either, just shock at who it was.
After Tom, it could never shock her again.
Her memories of life are like a copy of a copy, faded around the edge and blurring together. She couldn't tell you about the time when she was five and Bill and Charlie ran their hands over her body while she sat on Bill's knee in the backyard. Or about the time she skinned her knee running away from the twins and Percy put the bandage on it and kissed the boo-boo.
She does remember Percy on top of her, hot and sweaty and looking oh-so- much like Tom. She thinks she may have called him Tom a few times, her fingertips pressed flush into his arm as she moans. But this is later, years from now and before she died.
Now no one seems to look at Ginny anymore. Just a year before Ron had kissed hungrily in the Charms classroom, and now he won't speak to her. The twins have stopped playing practical jokes on her; they treat her like a porcelain doll. Bill and Charlie leave again quickly, so they're gone as always. Percy stays in his room, and she wants very much to crawl under his bed sheets and ask him to tell her about cauldron bottoms again, anything for some normalcy. And she does, though again this is years later.
Father never hurts her, really. Some times towards the end he thrusts hard and leaves a bruise on her upper arm, but otherwise he's so gentle, so quiet. He's not accustomed to a girl's body. Ginny has no muscles, her shoulders are small and compact and her hips are just beginning to curve. She's sure father would have been more pleased with another son, but he'll take what he can get.
Tom seemed unhappy with her in this way too, but how can things like this matter to a memory? That's all Tom is and was; memory. Father will be that too, just as soon as summer is over. Ginny will walk away from it all into the arms of Harry, and when he's tired with her, she'll find comfort in Percy's embrace. And then she'll die.
She knows none of this now, as her small bed frame shudders and rocks. Now all she knows is father and moonlight and half-hidden memories and solitude.
It's true, no one ever looks at Ginny again.
A/n: TBC. Thank you to everyone over in my corner of LJ who helped me keep this going. I love you all more than words can say.
'Ah, this isn't so unfamiliar,' Ginny muses in that part of her brain that is completely separate from her normal thoughts, as Arthur's fingers press into the skin at her hip that Tom once traced with the tip of his fingernail.
Ginny's far past screaming. She did it the first couple of times, in the pale grey moonlight and smoldering heat, but its midsummer now and the screams are long gone. It wasn't for fear of the act that she cried out either, just shock at who it was.
After Tom, it could never shock her again.
Her memories of life are like a copy of a copy, faded around the edge and blurring together. She couldn't tell you about the time when she was five and Bill and Charlie ran their hands over her body while she sat on Bill's knee in the backyard. Or about the time she skinned her knee running away from the twins and Percy put the bandage on it and kissed the boo-boo.
She does remember Percy on top of her, hot and sweaty and looking oh-so- much like Tom. She thinks she may have called him Tom a few times, her fingertips pressed flush into his arm as she moans. But this is later, years from now and before she died.
Now no one seems to look at Ginny anymore. Just a year before Ron had kissed hungrily in the Charms classroom, and now he won't speak to her. The twins have stopped playing practical jokes on her; they treat her like a porcelain doll. Bill and Charlie leave again quickly, so they're gone as always. Percy stays in his room, and she wants very much to crawl under his bed sheets and ask him to tell her about cauldron bottoms again, anything for some normalcy. And she does, though again this is years later.
Father never hurts her, really. Some times towards the end he thrusts hard and leaves a bruise on her upper arm, but otherwise he's so gentle, so quiet. He's not accustomed to a girl's body. Ginny has no muscles, her shoulders are small and compact and her hips are just beginning to curve. She's sure father would have been more pleased with another son, but he'll take what he can get.
Tom seemed unhappy with her in this way too, but how can things like this matter to a memory? That's all Tom is and was; memory. Father will be that too, just as soon as summer is over. Ginny will walk away from it all into the arms of Harry, and when he's tired with her, she'll find comfort in Percy's embrace. And then she'll die.
She knows none of this now, as her small bed frame shudders and rocks. Now all she knows is father and moonlight and half-hidden memories and solitude.
It's true, no one ever looks at Ginny again.
A/n: TBC. Thank you to everyone over in my corner of LJ who helped me keep this going. I love you all more than words can say.