Sing For Absolution
I will be singing
Falling from your grace

Sleepily, I opened my eyes. They felt dry and sore, either from the crying or the lack of sleep, I'm not sure. But last night was a bad one.

After my little confrontation with Harry I could do nothing but cry… And then the punishment for my weakness came. I don't think I handled the situation very well, so the punishment was harder than any I had yet served myself.

The bandage around my wrist itches. I've always hated gauze bandages for that reason, but it was the only thing I could find on such short notice. Usually I would have just wrapped myself up in a spare piece of cloth from an old shirt, but I didn't think last night through properly.

And after I fell asleep, there came the nightmares. I've had all of them before, just not all together, one after the other. I woke up eight times last night. I'll be surprised if I don't fall asleep during all my classes today… I'm just thankful I don't have Snape for anything. I could just imagine what would happen if I did fall asleep during Potions.

I can't help but shudder at the thought.

The sunlight this morning hurts my eyes. Even with the dark stained-glass windows, the light shining through is too bright. There's a sharp pain throbbing at the back of my head. It feels like the morning after I tried to kill myself during the summer…

I roll gracelessly out of bed and hit the floor with a thud.

"Great…" I mutter indignantly.

I get clumsily to my feet and lean against the bedpost for support as vertigo takes over, blurring my vision with a wave of black flecked with all the colors of the rainbow. Great…

When my vision clears I stumble to the bathroom door and open it. There are a few third-years inside and… I groan inwardly.

"Good morning Hermione."

"Morning Ginny. Did you sleep well?"

"No. You?"

"Yeah."

Conversations, even the exchange of pleasantries, with Hermione have become strained, like those with Ron. I don't really talk to Hermione, except for in the mornings and about something with my homework. I don't know why, but I don't hate her as much as I hate my brother. It's probably because she told me in my third year; I had more time to come to terms with what she was saying and how she reasoned it all out… Though how you reason out not loving Harry is beyond me.

"So…" Hermione said, reluctant to start a lengthy conversation in fear of getting lashed out at again. "What was wrong with your sleep? Nightmares, too hot, too cold, insomnia?"

"Nightmares and a bit of insomnia."

"Nightmares? What were they about?" she looked, surprisingly, concerned.

"Just… stuff. Nothing important." (And inside my head my conscience was doing the "You're a Fucking Liar" dance to Flight of the Vulcaries.)

"You sure? 'Cause, I know that we've kind of drifted apart and all, but you really can come to me if something's bothering you."

"No, 'Mione, it's really nothing important."

She looked at me with a worried expression before nodding and heading for the seventh-year dorms door.

As she disappeared through it I sighed and buried my face in my hands.

When I looked up again, the third-years were all staring at me.

"What!?" I demanded.

They all started and one of them muttered "Nothing," before they all hurried through the door to their respective dorm.

I glared after them.

What the fuck?

I sighed and bowed my head.

That was when I noticed I was in a sleeveless shirt. So that was what the third-years were staring at. Fuck. Hermione would have seen it all too. Fuck.

I was cursing my stupidity. The thirds this year were well known for their ability to spread gossip and rumors like the plague, so that officially meant that I was screwed into the ground.

Fuck.

"- and I'm not myself anymore. Everyone looks at me strange and I can feel myself burning with embarrassment. That's when I realize that I'm on fire, so the burning could have been either of the two causes.

"There's a man standing over me with a maniacal glint in his eye and his face is dominated by a feral grin as he watches me burn. He keeps telling me that I'm doing well and that it'll all be over soon. His voice is a rasping hiss and I choke on the sound, though he doesn't care.

"He stares at me like I'm not screaming. Like I'm not trying to break all the chains he has wrapped around me by using physical force alone. He never takes his eyes off me as he carves away my flesh with his hands, as he cuts off all my hair and throws it to the ground, as he runs his fingers over my bones, still scattered with some remaining pieces of flesh.

"I try to twist away from him, but he hits me until I stop struggling. He burns his mark right onto my bone and covers me over again with the blanket he hides me under. I can hear voices around me and he talks with them for a while before he pulls the sheet off me again with a flourish, displaying me like a prize to all the cold steel faces."

I sit back down again. Trelawney, the stupid old bat, has finally decided she's had enough of my twenty page dream diary entries. She made me read out the latest nightmare to the class. They're all staring at me now as I sit in the back of the tower room. The professor is standing above me looking at the wall blankly, and down here below her all I can do is drum my fingers impatiently on the desktop, waiting for her to speak.

But she doesn't. She makes no sound and doesn't move. Actually, as I look around the classroom, no one is moving, no one is even batting an eyelid. Scary.

Outside, the bell goes to signal the end of the lesson. The sound snaps everyone back into motion and they all start to sluggishly collect their books. Trelawney saunters away, glassy eyed and silent.

I'm the first down the ladder and out of the tower. The hallways are crowded and busy with other students moving about. The corridors echo with their laughter and yelling, but their happiness falls on deaf ears. I have a free period to blow off, so I head towards the west wing of the castle, determined to get some quality time in with my arm and a blade of any kind.

As I make my way to the fifth floor corridor I'm jeered at and stared at and as I pass, people cover their mouths with their books or hands and mutter to their friends. I know it's about me, about my arms and my wrists. But I don't care. I just keep walking. My addictions and problems are none of their business.

What really gets me is Pansy and Hermione, the two least likely people, come up to me halfway down a crowded corridor together. Pansy hugs me and tells me she knows what it's like and if I ever need to talk, all I have to do is find her. Hermione pats my shoulder and says that she's "there for me". That's interesting.

Then I hurry to the corridor of unused classrooms, fearful of any more meetings like that. It's only a short one hallway, the rooms are usually used for groups and associations during the permitted night hours. I've made use of them many times before; I've even claimed one as "my" room.

I walk quietly to the end of the hallway and turn to the door on my left, pushing it open silently.

I'm not prepared for the sight I see.