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Author's Notice: Yeah...hmmm. Harry/Ginny. Ginny's POV. It's sort of about someone's idea of romance from a very young age to a point where their idea of romance has been twisted. There's some abusive! Harry in this fic, and yeah, some people are going to not like that. Real people do bad things, and other people put up with it.
'She said
"don't, don't let it go to your head
Boys like you are a dime a dozen,
Boys like you are a dime a dozen"'- 'You're So Last Summer' by TAKING BACK SUNDAY
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I just broke up with him. May nineteenth, around eight at night.
I just broke up with him. May nineteenth, out by the Quidditch pitch.
I just broke up with him. And I don't feel so good anymore.
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Harry Potter, he's more a legend than a person. He's still alive, you know, but sometimes the people act like he's not. The way they talk about him, like he's not even around. The way they speak of him like he's some sort of God, the way they insult him.
I never really knew the real Harry Potter until we started dating. I think I just knew a Harry that was very...different. Before we started dating, I held a very high opinion of him. Perfection, but everyone's perfect if you don't look close enough. He was the Boy Who Lived; he beat the Dark Lord before he was even one year old. It was amazing, awing.
I loved Harry. I don't think I love him so much anymore.
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I saw him first when I was ten. Ten years old! God, that's very young. I don't remember much about being ten, I remember wishing I had someone to keep me company, and wishing I could go to Hogwarts with my brothers. I doodled hearts over paper, and made heart cookies. I had a heart pillow, and I signed my letters with hearts, dotted my i's with hearts. I even had a heart, tucked safely away. Very safely.
I started Hogwarts when I was eleven. Eleven years old! That's young too, really. Just eleven. Starting Hogwarts, getting to see Harry every single day. Learning what made him happy, what made him sad, if the tomato soup at Hogwarts really did taste as good as everyone said it did. I remember wishing my brother's didn't ignore me so much, and wishing I could go home. Harry ignored me most of the time. He was too busy with Ron and Hermione, or school, or fighting evil or being with house elves or some other sort of rubbish. I never believed it anyway.
I don't think I ever forgave Harry for ignoring me when I was little.
Twelve was sort of young too, when you thought of it. Second year. This was the year I started planning things. What my first kiss would be like...out on the Quidditch pitch, in an empty corridor. Would it be spontaneous...would it be with an older boy. Were kisses really like in Fairytales? Would this boy love me as much as Mummy said boys were supposed to love me? Ron said boys really do love girls sometimes.
In my third year I was invited to the Yule Ball. Neville! That's sort of funny too, because Neville...what was I thinking? But when you're thirteen you're impressed by boys like Neville, I don't know why, you just are. He was a nice boy though, not nice like Harry, but nice. I couldn't imagine marrying Neville though, or having my happily ever after with him. I always knew he liked me because he walked me to Charms only all the time, and sometimes he waved at me. I always knew Neville liked me for me. But we didn't kiss, and we didn't hold hands. And when we danced we were very far apart, and when we talked Neville stuttered.
There was word around school, in my fourth year; that Harry Potter kissed Cho Chang. I knew I'd never be able to measure up to her. She was much older than fourteen. She had it all. I knew that Cho Chang was Harry's first love, I don't know how, I just knew that...as I was attached to him forever he was attached to her forever. I wanted to tell her: "You could have any boy in this school...and you want Harry. Harry!" Something was off there, but she missed Cedric, and the closest thing to famous was more famous...and Harry was, without doubt, very famous.
I don't think I ever forgave Harry for falling in love with Cho Chang.
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There's a point in everyone's life, I think, when the world just spins. It just spins for a very long time and everything changes. Every single opinion you've ever acquired changes. Every single assumption changes. Fifth year was one of those times. Harry and I started dating at the start of term, and my opinion of him took a drastic turn. He wasn't a handsome hero, he was a dying hero. He was a hero with a dying soul, I wonder if they make heroes any other way.
My first kiss was with Harry. And I bet every little girl in the world wants to say that. It was funny, you finally get what you wanted at twelve when you're fifteen and it's not what you want anymore. It was nice but it wasn't at all like a fairytale. He leaned in, and I leaned it, and he was dirty from Quidditch and I had just taken a bite of stale bread. It was quick too, fast. I wondered if he loved me as much as Mummy said boys were supposed to love me. I knew that for the rest of my life there would always be a piece of Harry inside of my heart. And I'd carry it around forever.
Sixth year, Harry and I were still together. Don't ask me if that was a good thing or a bad thing. We began getting in pretty nasty fights. There was a lot of yelling in that relationship. I never really forgave Harry for some of the things he called me. We broke up, we got back together, the rumors were rapid. Ginny Weasley did WHAT with Harry Potter? Harry Potter hit Ron's little sister? Harry Potter did bad things...no, say it isn't so. Harry Potter did do bad things, and he was bad to me.
Sweet Sixteen.
Sometimes, I think, we stay with people just because we can't bear being apart from them. We're scared of being without them, scared of being without this person who loves us, or hates us. I was a very scared person, in my sixth year. Harry, ironically, was a very fearless person during that period of time. I saw him kissing Parvati one day, and my heart broke. And it kept breaking. Loving Harry Potter was one of the riskiest things I've ever done...but it seemed like we'd been together forever. How do you end that...who was I without him? I was no one, I was no one.
I was no one. I was no one.
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I guess that's all I wanted to say. I could tell you more horror stories. I could tell you that I cried myself to sleep, and that after he kissed me I giggled myself senseless, I could tell you that I never forgave him for a lot of things he did, I could tell you that everything reminds me of him, I could tell you I learned a lot.
I could tell you that I'll be single for the rest of my life and that it's a good thing, but that'd be a lie. Because I want to be loved like Mummy says I'm supposed to be loved. Because I want to be told I'm beautiful and perfect, even if I'm only sort of beautiful and nothing near perfect.
I could tell you I want Harry Potter dead. And I want him dead soon. But that'd be a lie too, because hating Harry would mean hating a part of me that lives on, lives on even though he's out of my life now. Even though he's not so much out of my life...I'm not out of the woods yet.
I could tell you I'm a very happy person right now. But that too would be a lie. Because I'm sad, and I'm hurt and I'm sort of out of it. I'm sort of not feeling anything...I'm feeling a lot of stuff I couldn't possibly put into words for you.
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But for now, I'll tell you the truth. Just the truth.
And the truth is, I'm ready to be Ginny Weasley again.
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The End
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