(authors note: hey guys, I forgot to put a warning on
the last chapter, but this story, if you haven't
figured it out yet, contains self mutilation. If such
things make you uncomfortable, THEN DON'T READ IT.
Another thing, she isn't a goth. She lives in black
and white, black being bad, white being good. She
dresses in all black because she still thinks she is
at fault for the death of harry potter(which she
isn't) also, she doesn't wear school robes anymore. I
don't know why, she just doesn't. I never liked those
robes , they don't show their outfitssss:shakes
fist:
:deep breath: thirdly, this chapter takes place six
months /after/ the last chapter.
FOURTHLY, no, I am not going into how harry potter
died until later onnnnnn. Im sorry if you're a harry
lover, but I'm not. Hehe.)
Chapter 2
"Ginny, wake up!" Hermione whined, tugging on Ginny's
arm which began to bleed through her nightshirt.
Seeing the blood, Hermione stopped. She gently lifted
the sleeve, revealing the marred horror that was her
arm. Ginny looked up sleepily, and upon realizing the
situation, she pulled her arm away. Hermione, stunned,
just stood there, and then coming to her senses ran
downstairs to get a teacher. Ginny, thinking fast,
grabbed some of her clothes, stuffed them into a bag,
grabbing her brom, she shattered the window with her
fist. Jumping out her window and onto her broom she
headed for the forbidden forest.
Crash landing deep in the forest, she cried out for
him. He didn't come. He never came. All she wanted was
to see his face, to hear his voice. She knew only his
presence in the back of her mind. The only love she
had ever felt. This presence she had felt since…No,
she musnt think on it. It wasn't her fault. But it
was, oh it was. If only she had tried harder, if only
she had said yes, not struggled. Maybe then…he would
still be here…
"Ginny! Ginny! Wake up! You're going to be late for
breakfast!" Ginny's eyes opened slowly and the bushy
head of her annoying friend came into view. Well, I
cant really call her a friend, now can I? Ginny
thought bitterly. She rose slowly and got dressed,
putting on the same black clothes she wore every day,
then quickly braided her long blood red hair and
twined it around her head. Using her wand she magicked
the dark eyemakeup she wore at all times. Pulling a
soft loosely woven black sweater over her head she
walked quickly into the common room, slipping past the
chattering Gryffindors and out the portrait hole.
She descended the stairs, heading for the dungeons.
Potions didn't start for another half and hour but she
was intent on talking to Snape beforehand. Snape,
after a year of detention, had become her close
friend. She knocked on Snapes door, which opened
immediately, his familiar form coming into view.
Smiling, he waved her into the room.
""How are we today, my dear Lanoire?"
Snape had become accustomed to calling her
Madomoiselle Lanoire, after her habit of black attire.
Ginny just looked at him, the answer in her eyes.
"Another nightmare then?" He questioned quietly.
Sighing, he sat down at his desk, rubbing his temple.
Looking up, his eyes drifted to her arm. He raised his
brow, asking the silent question. She shook her head,
and he sighed in relief.
No blood she thought not since he saved me. Thinking
of him made her heart ache. She found this reaction
strange. She chose to ignore it.
"You're going to end up six feet under…" He began. She
sighed, having heard this lecture a thousand times.
"People do care you know." He finished.
She looked up defiantly, rage burning in her eyes.
Not Harry! She thought Not Ron! Not 'Mione! Not Ma or
Da! No one!
He studied her. "I do, and Blaise, and Icky…"
Icky was the closest thing to Ginny's best friend.
Icky stood for Ichabod, as was her real name. She was
a short, thin, and well developed girl, with beautiful
brown eyes, pale skin, and freckles. Her black hair
was cut in a Chelsea like fashion, a buzzcut and
bangs. (No, she is not a skinhead) She was the
school's most prominent artist, and more than a little
crazy.
Ginny sighed, and whispered.
"Those who care are few and far between. I'm called a
traitor in my own house because I am accepted only by
the enemy."
Snape perked up when she spoke, which was rare. She
had gone mute two years ago, and had only six months
ago began talking again. She spoke only to Snape,
Blaise, Icky, and …him.
Snape smiled, and began to chuckle lightly.
"Speaking of the enemy…I have spoken to Dumbledore.
You will be moved into Slytherin, and will occupy
Draco's old room."
Ginny sat shivering in bed. The dungeons were
unusually warm, different from what she had expected.
That wasn't why she was shivering. Ginny had never
spent a night in a room with no windows, and very
little light. Not that she was afraid of the dark,
rather that the walls reminded her of the chamber.
Ginny quickly got out of bed, pulling her sweater over
her head. She slipped out of the dungeons and headed
for the girls bathroom. When she entered, she looked
about for the shadow of his form, but it was nowhere
to be seen. Her heart dropped in her chest, and she
tried to stifle the despair and overwhelming
dissapointment. Slowing her pace, she walked towards
her old haunt. Sinking to the floor of the fifth
stall, she leaned back against the wall. Soon, she
fell into a fitful sleep.