Title: Power of the Purebloods I: Thin Ice
Author: Riea Carlos
Rating: R
Genre: Romance/Drama
Summary: It's Ginny's sixteenth birthday; Charlotte amuses herself with a certain diary.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns it all except Charlotte. She's my little creation.
Author's Note: Not much to say, because anything I say will give away the chapter. So here's the word: Read.
Power of the Purebloods I: Thin Ice
by Riea Carlos
Chapter Seven: Birthday Wishes
"What?" Ginny sputtered. Her eyes immediately moved to Charlotte's stomach, though there wasn't anything that was out of the norm. Charlotte's eyes flickered as she looked down at the plush, scarlet carpeting.
Her best friend was mumbling to herself incoherently. "No," she whispered. "Who? How? I mean, Charlotte," Ginny suddenly put the pieces together immediately. Charlotte and Harry acting weird one morning, and now this...
"NO!" Ginny screamed. "It's Harry's, isn't it? Harry's the child's father, right? God damn it, Charlotte, how fucking could you?"
Charlotte shrieked back at her and threw herself down on the nearest bed. "Damn you, Ginny, it's not like that! Stop making conclusions and listen to someone for a change, god!"
"Then what is it, Charlotte? You get consumed by jealous rage that I was with Draco so you go and manipulate a boy whose already had enough hardship just to say you stole something from him?"
The youngest Hembound child closed her eyes tightly. "You oughta rethink that. You think I manipulated him? It's the other way around, Ginny. Harry forced himself on me."
Ginny felt as if all the air had been hit very hard out of her body. "...Harry...raped you?" As much as she didn't want to believe it, she knew she had to take Charlotte's word over anyone else's. This was her best friend since she was 11. Why was there any reason not to believe her?
"Tell me what happened, Charlotte. Please, you've got to." Ginny sat herself down on the bed next to Charlotte. She reached out to caress her hair, or place a soothing hand on her shoulder, but Charlotte shivered at the mere thought of being touched.
"I don't want to talk about it," Charlotte muttered. She placed her pillow under her chest and rocked it, as tear after tear slid consistently down her cheek. She noticed Ginny's pleading look then sighed. "Fine, but you're sworn to secrecy, alright? Please don't tell anyone. Promise?"
The youngest Weasley chewed at her lip and knew this wasn't something she should keep to herself but nodded. "Yes, sure, I promise."
Charlotte made sure the door was locked and took a deep breath. "Well, two weeks ago, I went to Harry's four-post to see if I could get his cloak. Well, he was the only one awake, and I went to ask him for it, and--" Her voice cracked.
"What?" Ginny demanded. "Tell me." She didn't know how much more she could hear, but she needed to hear it all.
Ginny took a quick glance around the room, and her eyes fell on the Invisibility Cloak that was hanging loosely from Charlotte's trunk. She frowned at it, but didn't say anything. "Then he told me he'd give it to me, if I gave him something else," Charlotte went on, and Ginny's attention shot up immediately.
"And you know the rest. He had his way with me, and then let me take the cloak as a constellation prize," she mumbled.
The only thing that could escape Ginny's mouth was the word "no." With that, she scooped Charlotte up in a huge hug, no matter how much she cringed, and without looking at her, she left.
Charlotte grinned to herself as soon as Ginny left. She pulled out Tom Riddle's diary from under her bed, and inked her quill. "These people are so ignorant, Tom. How could Ginny fall for two cock and bull stories? Harry didn't rape me, you know; and I'm not even pregnant."
She let the words sink into the page and watched as new ones appeared. "Really, Miss Hembound? Why, you're mind is thinking just as a descendant of Salazar Slytherin should be thinking,"
She smirked horribly as she spilled out her deceptions and twisted stories into the diary. It gave her much satisfaction; telling Tom Riddle what she did, and hearing his praise. Her blue blooded heart swelled with pride.
The next day was Ginny's sixteenth birthday. She didn't want to get out of bed, not after the revelation that could ruin everyone in Hogwarts. She was planning to fake ill and go to Madam Pomfrey, but before she could even muster up the strength to get up, she felt a body over hers hoist her up into the air.
"Happy birthday sexy," said Draco, clad in a menacing smile. He held out a bouquet of white roses, and a white, cubed box. "Open it," he said gleefully. Ginny nodded and took the box in her hands. She carefully peeled the white crepe paper out, and it revealed a tiny, calico cat statue.
She gasped at the tiny figurine and smiled slightly. "Oh, Draco, it's beautiful." She closed her eyes and gave him a tap on his lips. "I love it." The silver haired young man took the statue in his hands.
"That's not all it does. Remember, we are wizards you know," he slowly ran a finger down the spine of the cat. All of a sudden, it purred and multiplied in size so that Draco held a real, live kitten. "And to change it back into a statue, just rub it's spine in the reverse direction." He did so, and the cat turned back into a solid.
Draco was delighted with his gift but he wasn't so happy to see Ginny looking so gloomy. "Oh, come off it, Gin. It's your birthday. Be happy. Smile."
"I can't," Ginny muttered. She grabbed Draco's hand, and led him into the corridors that were still quiet in the hangings of early Saturday morning. "Charlotte's pregnant," she blurted out. Ginny was never one to mince words, and this wasn't the time.
Draco stared ahead, shaking his head aimlessly. "No," he muttered. "What the hell…I mean, whose baby is it? And who would want to fuck her?" Ginny hit him hard on the shoulder.
"Don't say that," she hissed. She chewed at her lip and pushed her greasy hair back. "It's so hard for me to say but, I can't keep this a secret. Harry raped Charlotte two weeks ago."
Draco blinked and searched Ginny's eyes for a smile, a laugh, or a chuckle, anything to indicate that this was all a big joke. "Oh, my god,"
