Dear Readers,
This is a simple one-shot I wrote for my darling Beffy. She is not only my editor, but my dearest friend. I got the idea loosely from Lielabell's story 'Sinking Ships'; if you have not read it I highly suggest it. (grins) I also would like to thank Lielabell for BETAing for me so Beffy has not yet seen this. Hope you enjoy it, please leave a review.
Love to all,
LovesFantasy
The 23-year-old woman sat herself down quietly in the carol nearest to the corner of the almost deserted library. She flipped the computer monitor on and quickly entered her pass-code. She absent-mindedly twirled a coppery curl about her long slender fingers as she waited for the computer to boot up.
Her sad emerald eyes twinkled as she clicked the icon to launch the Internet server. Thoughts drifted to memories of the not so distant past as she typed in her destination. She was addicted and she knew it.
The page opened and she entered her email and pass-code, her fingers shaking in anticipation. She scrolled down through her favorite's list and decided on a classic favorite – full of the smut she loved to revisit. Still, there were so very many stories that she loved. Each one was unique and beautiful, though none of them entirely accurate. There were a few that were close, but she had yet to find a writer who got it completely right.
Jo Rowling had written her world so brilliantly and it had inspired many 'muggles' to spin off into their own fantasies. The Ministry was in an absolute uproar over the violent exposure of their world. Oh yes, she had read the books. Over and over and over until the pages were worn and torn and covered with finger smudges and bits of spilt food and drink. She devoured it in-spite of the lack of accuracy on certain details. Sadly, whoever delivered the tale to Jo had left out some important pieces to the puzzle. She had yet to publish book 6 and 7, so Gin waited patiently to see what roll Jo would have her play in the last few years.
Would she make mention of the relationship that had rocked the wizarding world? She had already glossed over the beginning stages of the relationship. The story was, of course, centered on Harry Potter rather than her, so she was not surprised to see that the initial courtings and comments were not part of the final product.
There was also the fact that Jo had stated there would unlikely be a follow up book once she completed the original 7, and if Jo told any part of the relationship she would almost have to tell of the subsequent break up, which took place after Gin's own graduation.
She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall every time she seated herself in front of the computer. It was difficult sometimes to revisit the memories. But, she was addicted and she would have her fix even if it meant tears and heavy drinking would follow later that night.
She read the first chapter of the story and toyed with the idea of leaving a comment. She warred with herself on this every time she visited. She longed to set the story straight and show the world why she made the decisions she did, but for some reason she just couldn't do it.
There had been romance. Oh yes, so much romance. There was intrigue and illusions. Lust and even love. And there was the ending. Every story is about the ending. Be it happy or sad, concrete or open-ended – the ending was by far the most important. And what of her ending? Was she really prepared for the world to know their ending? Did she want Jo to get it right?
Her fingers itched to type out a cryptic message to the author. She had left reviews before, but they were always things like, "Wonderful writing," or "Lovely description." She had never imposed her 'theory' on anyone. She wasn't sure if she could tell them the truth.
Her eyes greedily read the words on the screen. For all the stories she had read there were many that described his body right. Jo had not gone into much detail on that aspect. Understandable since the books were aimed for children. Those older authors with their active imaginations had described him stunningly. And reading the words took her back to another place and time when she was truly the one running her fingers along his jaw line and whispering heated and passionate words in his ear. She shivered involuntarily. Yes, it was worth the pain to feel that all-consuming desire course through her again.
She leaned back in the old, tattered office chair that had seen far too many bottoms. It creaked and she smiled wistfully.
Some of the writers were exceptionally talented; the way their words wove music and breathed life into their once love. Yes, she loved him still. Oh gods, did she love him. Ever fiber in her body called out to him. Her heart ached to hold him in her arms again.
Gin shook her curly head and chided herself; she knew better to dream such things. She would not hold him again and that was why she contented herself to this. To read what the fans of J. K. Rowling wrote about her and her lover.
It had been Hermione who had introduced her to the wonderful world of Fan Fiction. Hermione, whose story was most accurately told by Jo, had mentioned a site where stories existed with twisted versions of events. Laughing during an intimate supper at her flat, Hermione mentioned being paired up with Harry, Snape and even Lucius Malfoy. The other guests had joined in her laughter, but Gin became fascinated.
"What if?" She had wondered to herself. "What if they think to put us together?" It hadn't been that far fetched really. And when Gin finally found the site Hermione had spoken of, she was delighted to find that there was an abundance of fiction based on her sorted affair.
Gin closed the page, deciding not to leave a note. She had already left a review on that story before, and they only let you review each chapter once. Checking her watch she saw that her lunch hour was over and she needed to head back to the office.
She signed off the computer and wiped the last few tears from her eyes. She would be back. She knew she would. He had infected her with his love and even if fan fiction wasn't the real thing, it was enough to keep her sane. She gathered her belongings and thanked the librarian.
"See you tomorrow dear," the kind white-haired woman called to her.
"Yes," Gin sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow."
And the day after that. And the day after that. Because she was addicted.