Disclaimer: I own nothing; do not sue unless you want a half eaten bag of slightly stale Doritos and a faded wooly sweater.
Author Notes: Apart from taking half of forever to get this chapter out, there is little I have to report at the moment. You all better be pleased with the length of the update, it's just over three thousand words! This chapter was probably a bit too fun to write, having the main character blow up at so many people is delightfully evil. I hope you all enjoy.
Death…Or Something Like It
Pain - Chapter Five
The tears collected in the corners of her eyes grew too heavy and a single, crystalline droplet streamed pathetically down her flesh, much to her deepest horror. When the Elders before her knelt, one of her hands flew up and pressed against her mouth, trying to keep the gut wrenching sobs within her. Her large eyes grew wide and she took a half step backwards, bare feet slapping against the stone floor. She lost one internal battle to keep her trembling at bay, her shoulders beginning to shudder as her free hand grasped a fist full of her dress.
"Get up!" She cried, shock written on her face.
One of the Vampyres lifted his head slightly, but quickly dropped it as a sign of respect. Salty droplets cascaded across her cheeks, hitting the floor with faintly audible plops. From the pained memories she had of that night so long ago, she distinctly recalled him whispering that only the lowest of the low would ever bow to her. The scum of the earth, which he said some years before in his mind were Vampyres, would be the only ones to look on her, a broken whore good for nothing but lying still and cold as a dead fish, with anything close to respect.
Was what he had growled at her true? Was she really a worthless slut? Her sobs grew harder and she spun on her heel, sprinting towards the massive set of doors on the other side of the room. Without thinking of the destruction she could create, she slammed a balled up hand against the wood, shattering it easily. Splinters of wood sliced open her flesh, the divine blood within her veins mingling with the tears.
Within moments she lost track of those she ran past, but the one face that would be etched permanently into her mind's eye was the worried features of one Draco Malfoy. His brow creased, dark shadows forming where the skin wrinkled, and his arms outstretched as if to grab a hold of her. She made herself move faster, letting pink tears ooze down her countenance. In what seemed like hours, but in all reality was a few minutes, she blasted her way out of the stronghold like castle and into the frigid air of the night.
The passage from the bowels of the impressive structure to the chill outdoors would never be remembered by her, those fleeting seconds forever lost to her. A choked noise escaped her as she some how found herself slammed into the trunk of a particularly large, icy oak. Her head connected against the bark with a sickening crunch, her body ricocheting backwards and into the snow. She let out a pained moan and brought a hand up to touch the rising lump, eyes closed.
"Fuck."
The single word bounced off of the closely packed trees and she let the frozen wetness soak through her clothing, hungrily stealing warmth from her limbs. Tears continued to stream freely from her eyes, seeping into the hair sprouting behind her temples. Horror oozed sludge like and thick through her veins, mixing with blood and forming into heavy lead. How desperately she wished to curl up and pass from the world, give into the chilling call of Death.
She scrunched her eyes up in a pathetic attempt to slow the flow of freezing salt water stinging her cut cheeks. That strange magick within her began to blossom, the core of her being beginning to warm again. At first she believed the inner heat growing sprouted to save her from passing away, alone in a forest during winter, but when the cold did not dissipate, she lost her faith in her survival. The muted colours of the woodland around grew hazy, the tones mixing and melting into each other until darkness swallowed her whole, ravenously consuming her consciousness.
A single voice, surprisingly familiar, was the first thing she heard, the tons mixing and slipping into her subconscious long before she came into full awareness. Her lids began to flicker as the hold sleep had on her began to fray and a hand on her shoulder began to shake her frail body. She tried to turn away from the insisting movement, attempting to curl her form up into the fetal position in a pathetic attempt to ward off any outside influences.
"Ms. Malady, I need you to wake up." So memorable, yet not enough to pull her from the warm haze of the area between sleep and consciousness. "Esther? Open your eyes." Still no reply and a disgruntled huff came from above. "Ginevra Weasley, it really is necessary. Wake up, now." Upon hearing someone say the name her parents gave her, she cracked a lid open, a soft curse slipping from her dry mouth at the onslaught of light against her senses.
"That is not my name." She croaked, none to gently pushing the woman's hand away from her. "I lost that title when I brought shame to my family by telling the truth. Go bother someone else." Why did the female hovering above her seem so damn familiar?
It suddenly struck her and she let out a groan, eyes closing sharply. She rolled over and pressed her face into the shapeless pillow, a steady stream of words that would have made even Ron proud, muffled by the material. Poppy Pomfrey's brow creased as she listened to the young Auror mutter to herself, miffed at the girl's attitude.
"That is no way to treat your elders…"
She quite abruptly lurched into a sitting position, violet eyes glinting with a dangerously violent spark to them. The medi-witch drew back at the strange sight, such pale flesh surrounded by a bloody halo with amethyst orbs staring murderously out from beneath those incarnadine curls.
"Shut the hell up, Pomfrey. You of all people should not lecture me on the proper conduct around one's elders. After what you did, oh excuse me, didn't do, you have no right to even speak to me. What am I? Let's see if we can remember what you so scathing spat at the trial…I'm just an incestuous trollop, mentally impaired by my time possessed by Voldemort. Oh but that's right, you are too afraid of a bloody snake bastard to even say its name, you said You Know Who, didn't you? Don't you know fear of the name only gives that damned creature more power over you?" The sadism in her eyes became tinged with pain as hurt overlaid her tone. "You, who knew the truth, lied to protect the sick fuck only because he helped to defeat Voldemort, despite the heinous crimes he committed against me. How could you?" Her voice broke on the last words, the full spectrum of her pain evident as she wrapped her arms around her torso in a feeble gesture of comfort.
"Child…"
"Don't you dare 'child' me!" She spat coldly, fiery abhorrence springing to life in those expressive indigo orbs. "You lost every sodding right to even be on speaking terms with me when you betrayed me to the fucking psychopath that brutalized me!" She had began to shriek by the end of her little tirade, the peculiar magick within her making her naturally pale skin take on an unearthly radiance.
"Miss Malady, I would ask that you would not terrify my medi-witch. She is rather necessary to the upkeep of a school such as this one."
Her head whipped around, those stained locks following. "Oh it's you." She muttered, throwing the thin blanket off of her legs.
For a brief moment as her feet touched the frigid stone floor she felt dizzy, but the comforting thrum of her newly acquired magick gave her all the strength she needed. She threw a momentary glance down at the scratchy material covering her body before letting out a snort, directing the energy bubbling through her system into changing her garments.
A faintly pleased noise escaped her mouth as the hospital issued smock melted into an obsidian gown similar to that worn by mourning witches. She plucked her wand from the small table beside her bed, slipping it into a small holster on her left forearm, it hidden beneath her clothing. The long sleeves dipped into graceful swallowtails, covering her slender fingers as she crossed her arms beneath her chest.
"What is it you want, Dumbledore?"
"Well, my child…"
"That would be Esther to you." She growled, not caring in the slightest about her blatant disrespect to one of the two most powerful wizards alive.
"Excuse me, Esther; may I inquire as to what you were doing lying prone in a snow bank in the middle of winter, in a forest?"
"No you may not. If you are so desperate to know the circumstances of how I arrived in those woods go ask your precious Minister. He is, after all, the one who sent me there."
"But you are an Auror, wouldn't…"
"Remember who you are talking to." She coldly uttered. "The Ministry does not care about my sorry corpse. They sent me away to get of rid of me, hoping I would not come back. I would have thought you could have gathered that, but then again you are getting quite old. Has senility finally set in? You were quite the twinkling, doddering fool when I still attending this wretched excuse for a sanctuary." While she saw him beginning to grow irritated with her flippant manner, she hardly cared. "I will not sully this prestigious school with my tainted presence any longer." She mockingly bowed before him and began to walk towards the doors at the other end of the relatively large room, when his hand shot out and grabbed her by the bicep; for an old man he was deceptively strong.
"One in your situation should treat those who saved her with respect." There was no sparkle in his blue eyes.
"How can I respect those who turned on me when I needed them the most?" She sneered.
A sardonic chuckle escaped him as he shook his head, the look on his face reminiscent of her days in Snape's dungeons. "You are still clinging to your lies? When will you learn Ms. Malady that it was your own sick desires that made that confrontation come to pass? Had you not leaped at your own flesh and blood…" Anymore of his words were cut off by one of her slim hands flying up, catching him sharply on the cheek.
"You bastard." She hissed. "My entire childhood I idolized you, trusted you and all that time you were nothing but a charlatan." She ripped her arm from his grasp, silently pleased at the redness appearing on his aging flesh. "Good riddance to you, Albus Dumbledore, and may Hell and all its minions welcome your damned soul."
With those chilling words ringing in the clear air of the Infirmary, she swept from the silent room and to the halls beyond.
She did not get far before another abhorrent presence appeared before her. The untidy dark hair and once appealing emerald eyes of one Harry Potter repulsed her and the desire to scrub off the flesh he had once touched overcame her. He stood directly in her path, children attempting to push past them as they hurried to their classes. Few of them seemed to realize that the pariah of the Wizarding World stood in their midst, glowering at their Savior in a most insalubrious way.
"Get out of my way, Potter."
"If it isn't little Miss Ginny Weasley, oh excuse me, Esther Malady. How has banishment from all social circles and utter estrangement from your family been treating you?"
"Get out of my way." She repeated.
"What, has this year been horribly trying for you? Has it sucked all of your spirit from you?" He leaned forward, curling a heavy lock of crimson hair around one of his Quidditch roughened fingers.
"Don't fucking touch me, you prick." She spat.
"Ah, still feisty are we…I have a free period right about now and I was told that you were a 'deliciously sweet' shag. How about we go have a little 'talk' inside of my classroom?" His eyebrows lifted in a jaunty, propositioning manner.
An oily feeling of disgust settled and clung to her skin, filling her nostrils with its thick stench of cloying decay. Hardly without thinking, her arm pulled backwards and flew impossible fast at his fast. Her balled up fist connected solidly with his nose, the satisfying crunch of cartilage and bone shattering echoing around the noisy hallway. Pain blossomed in her knuckles, but it could be ignored for the moment, and she looked down at the sprawled out "man" at her feet.
"Foul cockroach." She said as she looked down at him with nothing but contempt in her fathomless eyes. "Someday the corruption you and my brother have spread and maintained will be proved, just you wait."
A hush had fallen in the corridor, a mass of students watching her in horror. She had punched the Boy Who Lived, the one who vanquished Voldemort and saved them all from a fate worse than death. Something about the barely trembling woman utterly screamed an other worldliness, an almost divine aura of a deceived, pissed goddess lingering about her. Her hand clenched into tight balls at her sides, hidden by the hems of her sleeves, and she strode through the crowd as they parted before her, following her with terrified gazes.
She finally escaped the confining walls of Hogwarts and rapidly apparated to the meager safety her small flat offered, slipping her wand back into the holder on her forearm. She collapsed in a boneless fashion onto her threadbare couch, rolling onto her back so she could stare at the delicate webbing of cracks in her ceiling. She sucked in a deep breath through her nostrils as she folded her hands on her belly, trying to keep herself from drowning in the blackened ocean of malaise threatening to engulf her.
A quiet sigh slipped from her barely parted lips, she silently wishing that she lay on her old bed back in the burrow and the past year and a half had been nothing more than a terrible, haunting nightmare. It would be so easy to slip into such a dream, to let her wand slip into her hand and whisper that single spell that would steal her life from her in a rush of emotionless jade light.
No matter how desperate her situation became, she knew deep within her that she would never be able to go as far as to kill herself. She lacked the bravery to do such a final thing. She curled on her side and let her eyes drift to the empty, cold fireplace. There had once been a time when that hearth had always been filled with cheerful flames, welcoming any caller that might wish to drop in.
Since the news had gotten out about her 'incident in incest', the fire never flared emerald. When she could scrape together enough energy, the blaze would burn only in intense orange and red, heating the room but never her soul. She swallowed thickly around the sudden rise of tears threatening to cloud her vision and pushed herself up so she could rest against the back of the couch.
She felt so tired, so sick of everything, desperation took the place of courage when the lion ran off with its tail between its legs like a kicked animal. But she was not at that stage yet, though she doubted it would take much more to add the final links on the chain that would strangle her.
The unexpected crackle of an unexpected flame jerked her from her darkening reverie, eyes flying to the hearth that usually remained devoid of any source of heat. Greens, an astonishing and mesmerizing mixture of jade, emerald, and lime stunned her retinas as she let out a surprised peep. A slightly dumpy woman stepped from the dancing, hungry spurts of fire, short orange hair falling around her shoulders. Clothes of an apparently handmade quality fit her rounded form loosely in paisley patterns.
"Mummy?" She whispered, her tone filled with childlike hope.
The woman looked up and warm compassion flooded her careworn face. "Ginny!" She spoke in obvious relief, closing the distance between herself and the sitting Auror.
A pair of caring arms enclosed her trembling body and she let out a hoarse sob, burying her face in the painfully familiar juncture where her mother's neck and shoulder. As her delicate figure shook with the force of tears, the older woman's hands gently rubbed her back, whispering sweet nothings into her hair.
She pulled away after several minutes, pale cheeks stained. "Mummy, why did you come?" She whispered. "I thought you hated me too, just like everyone else…"
Molly Weasley began to speak, but no words came from her opened mouth. Her brow furrowed as she leaned closer, thinking that if she brought her ear closer to her mother's lips perhaps she would be audible. She drew away in panic, on the verge of speaking when she found her arms empty. Her mother was nowhere to be seen.
She blinked suddenly and found herself still lying on her back, eyes facing the ceiling. Pain lanced through her, stilling her heart for a moment as a broken cry ripped from her. She had dozed off for a moment and it had been nothing more than a dream. She roughly dragged her fingers through her tousled curls, not bothering to be gently as she ripped through the snags.
Her very mind had begun to play tricks on her, twisting her deepest desire and taunting her with it. She let out a hoarse, animalistic shriek and grabbed a badly made pottery vase off of the spindly coffee table before her. She hurled it at the wall, letting her agony be shown through bloodcurdling screams of unspeakable pain. To her greatest surprise, a figure stood in the hearth and he definitely was not Molly Weasley.
Review Responses:
Re – Mmhh…All these chapters have actually been surprisingly long, all about eight to ten pages in a rather small font. I cannot promise more, only the length it takes for me to get what is needed for the chapter out.
Nelle – Thanks, I strive to make sure that what I write about is original. We don't need more prosaic fluff floating about the internet, at least no more than is already out there…Though, sometimes Mary Jane filled plot lines can be satisfying…So I'm just gonna be quiet now before I get myself in trouble somehow.
Darkangel1 – Vampyres are the very, very best…If you really like Vampyres and supernatural stuff then you'd probably like my other story Blood of an Enemy, it's completely filled with Vampyres/Vampires and the like.
Dranius – Haha, I am far from sane m'dear. I have dived off the deep end and smacked my head on the cement bottom of the pool. Here's another update for you!
Lily – Mehaha, nasty isn't it? But it is necessary to the angstyness of the story. It's actually going to only get worse before it begins to brighten, as much as I am going to let it that is. Course, I don't think I'm ever going to tell the reader outright about what happened, but there are enough, painfully blatant, clues to alert the reader. Oh I do too! Precisely why that isthe ship for this story! Though I don't think I'll go too deeply into their relationship, but if I do I might have to shift the rating to whatever this site as for R…
Mojo the Rock Chick Munchkin – Thanks…Giving up begging, for the moment!
Queen of the Insects – Angst is the most fun to write, especially if it is really freakily dark and twisted…Which is what I am striving to make this story to be.
Amanda Hughes – Maha, she kicks more ass in this chapter.
Tigoamy – I think there is some fire in the chapter, not exactly sure…If you're thinking what I am, then I regret to inform you that it really did happen. Just remember, what goes around comes around three times worse.
Thank you all so much for the reviews…Tell me what you think about the chapter, a night alone with Draco to the first person who can figure out who is standing in Ginny's fireplace.
Your Lord and Master;
Foamy the Squirrel