A/N: So. Anyone realized Avril lavigne is/used to be a cutter? Anyone at all? I have proof, if you doubt me. WELL. Onto the story! Oh, ahem:

WARNING: RAPE! SELF MUTILATION! In case you haven't noticed, it's been building, people.

'I hope you can hear me

I remember it clearly

The day you slipped away

Was the day I found

It won't be the same'-Slipped Away, Avril Lavigne (co-written with Chantal Kreviazuk)

Two days later, Ginevra Molly Weasley and Draco Romulus Malfoy were released from the Infirmary. An uncomfortable silence raged between the two, Ginevra's mouth a firm, angry line and Draco's face a pale pink.

Just as Ginevra was about to say something, Remus Lupin appeared, causing Draco to scuttle off with a fearful expression on his face. Ginevra was reminded of a small child who had done something naughty and was hoping Mummy and Daddy would forget it if he was a good little boy and didn't get underfoot.

"Remus?" Ginevra asked gravely, looking up at him.

"Ginny, the Headmaster seems to think that you may be keeping something from him. He wants me to talk to you."

"I'm not keeping anything, Remus."

"Well, then...have some of this tea, it's quite excellent."

Ginevra worked hard to keep the smirk off her face, took the small silver flask from her ex-professor, and swallowed a mouthful of the foul tasting liquid.

"Ginny, did you see anything odd the night Draco was attacked and the day Luna was killed?"

"No. I didn't."

Remus peered into her face, searching it for any expression that maybe there was more to the story.

"Did you do anything to help Voldemort get his magic into the castle?"

"No. I didn't."

"Do you have any envy of the Death Eaters?"

"No. I do not." Wasn't exactly a lie. She had envy of the high ranking ones, not the pathetic ones.

"Ginny, do you have any clue how V...Vol...You-Know-Who might have gotten his magic to enter the castle?"

"No."

"Very well," Remus handed the fiery haired female a different flask that had the anti-Veritaserum in it.

"How wonderful that the Order has so much faith in me!"

Remus stared.

"Did you think I wouldn't remember the questions? Merlin! They played you for a fool. That or they thought I was so inordinately stupid that I wouldn't have a clue! Good day, Lupin. Safe trip back."

"Ginny!"

But by then, she was around the corner with her angry sobs to loud to hear over.

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"Wow, Gin, you look incredible," Harry said, kissing her cheek.

"Have you lost weight?" Hermione asked with a frown, looking over her friend.

"A little. I tried fixing my dress with a charm, it worked, didn't it?" Ginevra asked, looking down at herself.

"Oh, it worked. Don't worry. You just look thinner," the brunette said, smiling.

"Oh. Well. We'd better start going, hadn't we? I don't want to spend hours in here."

Ron-who was escorting a blushing Hermione-led them toward the Great Hall, talking animatedly to Dean Thomas and taking bets on whether or not Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini would come as one another's dates.

Ginevra was silent as they walked, her hand in Harry's, and her mind drifting in various directions. She looked out a window they passed, and smiled slightly. Snow was falling, hitting the glass surface and seeming to bounce off it. The grounds were slowly transforming into a snowy wonderland, as they usually did this time of year.

She bit the skin on the side of her thumb, ignoring the raucous laughter. Music was floating towards her, and she turned and grinned at Harry.

"Dance with me when we get there?" She asked hopefully.

"Yeah, 'course," Harry replied.

They entered the Great Hall, Ginevra a light footed, grinning, pale creature dressed in vibrant red. Harry, dark haired, smiling fondly at his date, dressed in jeans, a blue button up shirt, and loosened tie (all used to be Dudley's, now charmed to fit him), looking for all the world a God.

Ron and Hermione, both slightly red as whispering broke out as well as compliments, were outshining Harry for once, but in a more flashy way. Hermione had outdone herself, letting her hair hang pin straight halfway down her back, her skin-as always-slightly tan, her dress above the knee and dark green. Ron was wearing a pair of khakis Harry had loaned him and an old blue cashmere sweater Percy hated.

Hermione gasped when she saw some of the more colorful outfits that half the girls seemed to be wearing. Ginevra laughed meanly, her eyes sparkling.

"Welcome to being a horny teenager," she muttered in Hermione's ear, causing a bright red stain to appear on the girl's face.

"Weasel, Potty, Mudblood." Draco Malfoy was leaning against the wall with Blaise, and smirking at the four of them. Ginevra frowned as she realized the Weasel wasn't pluraled.

"Come with Zabini, Malfoy? Hand over your money, Longbottom. You to, Dean….SEAMUS!"

The three boys groaned as they gave Ron there galleons and sickles, laughing at Draco's narrowed eyes and Blaise's smirk.

"Well, Potter, I see your loyal girlfriend is in high spirits. Did you finally figure out where it goes?"

Harry glared at his nemesis, his hand tightening on Ginevra's, making her wince. A flash of concern whipped across Draco's face before disappearing under his sneer.

"Ginevra and I figured out where it goes, Potter. If you ever need a lesson..." And then the blonde swept away, a laughing Blaise by his side.

Ron and Hermione stared at Ginevra, and she shrugged.

"It's Malfoy, what do you expect?" She asked, pulling Harry onto the floor when a slow number started playing.

Harry drew her into his arms, kissing her neck briefly.

"Can't believe he'd think he had a chance with you, Gin."

"I can," she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Well, he's arrogant, but I never thought..."

"He was amazing," She whispered, unaware that she had.

"What?" Harry asked, pulling back.

"Did I say something?" Ginevra asked, bewildered at the angry look on Harry's face.

"Uh, yeah, you did."

"Oh. I must've been daydreaming. Come on, let's go look at those statues. I heard Dumbledore charmed one into singing old sorting hat songs and after every word bubbles come out of its mouth."

Ginevra took his hand, leading him to the far, darkened wall that had been claimed by around four couples.

"Why did you say 'he was amazing', Ginny?" Harry asked, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I did? I'm sorry. Must've been daydreaming about something," she sounded so calm, so serene, her eyes half closed, leaning back into Harry, her hands resting on his arms.

"Oh?" He half-growled, tightening his hold on her.

"I love you," she whispered, as if apologizing, but taunting.

"I doubt that, Gin. I love you, but you don't love me. You never have," he whispered in her ear, his lips touching her skin with every word he uttered.

"I have! I do!" Ginevra said desperately, a lump rising in her throat. He had never been this way before, so hard and rough, so ready to cut as if he were a blade and she the arm he was aiming for. As if he wanted to dig into her heart, to rest there, and to then kill it, to squeeze her love out of her and laugh.

Zacharius Smith and his current girlfriend, Hannah Abbot, retreated deeper into the shadows after McGonagall swept by with Dumbledore at her side, whispering furiously to him.

"I'm tired of you lying. Did you or did you not shag Malfoy?" Harry asked, grabbing her wrist and turning her around violently, making her head snap.

"I didn't," she half-sobbed, wanting to drop to her knees and make a plea for herself. What was driving him to this? What was happening? She was ready to dedicate herself to him now, ready to be loved by him, to love him, to not be disgusted or irritated. What was happening to her Harry?

"Liar!"

He kissed her then, biting her lip harshly, the fingers of his left hand digging into her wrist, his right clamped tight on her shoulder. Ginevra brought her hands up and pressed against his shoulders. Her limbs crying out furiously as they realized they were lacking nutrition.

"Harry-" She managed to gasp out as he wound his hand in her hair and yanked it, making her head tilt upward.

"Shut up, Ginny. I want to show you I can please you better than Malfoy ever can, and I can't do it when your rambling like the moron you are," he hissed, his eyes shining with hatred.

"Please..." She whispered, fear racing through her.

"And I'll show you I can please you better than Voldemort."

Ginevra gasped and her eyes filled with tears. Pain that had started to dull reared up and cascaded into her mind and heart, coursing through her veins with determination. Harry clamped her hand in his and dragged her out of the Great Hall, saying to teachers and students and friends that she wasn't feeling well and he wanted to get her settled in ok before he returned.

Smiles appeared on peoples faces. What a sweet boy. What a sweet couple. A match made in heaven. She screamed inside, and just before he dragged her out the door, she saw Draco talking to Pansy and she felt her defenses leave her.

She couldn't save herself! She could barely keep herself functioning for chrissakes!

"Harry, please, don't do this. I don't want-" She received an open palm across the mouth and tasted blood. She listened to him as if she were in a dream. His tirade made no sense, the password was unintelligible. Ad then she was thrown on the floor and kissed so harshly, and her dress was ripped off and she opened her mouth to scream and then he bit her, he drew blood, he caused her pain and fear and...And...

Ginevra lay immobile as Harry entered her, and she automatically wrapped her legs around him and made the right sounds and let her eyes drift closed perfectly and it hurt...his hands, his teeth, his words.

Two hours later, after she had dragged herself up the stairs to a shower and had changed into a pair of pajamas, she sat on the bathroom floor, blood still slowly trickling out of the bite on her neck, and the long gash on her leg. She had charmed the floor and her clothing to repel the blood, so she didn't worry about any one finding her.

She fingered the pen knife she had taken from Neville's trunk. Blood appeared on her finger. She closed her eyes, bit her lip, and pressed it to her upper arm, drawing it harshly sideways. Pain slammed into her, and she whimpered, the knife dropping to the floor as blood slowly beaded up onto her skin. She shook, and her mind seemed to drift, seemed to escape her.

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"Draco? You here?" Ginevra whispered, pleating her black pajama pants, tracing-from memory-the small white hearts on them.

"Yes." His voice was hoarse.

"Do me. Now. As hard and rough as you can. I want to feel nothing but pain until my mind explodes in pleasure," Ginevra said dully, unbuttoning her top.

"Ginevra! Not here!" Draco hissed, grabbing her wrist. She flinched away from him, and struggled to keep her face neutral.

Don't you dare fucking cry, she ordered herself, still unbuttoning.

Draco watched her walk away, and he worried. This new friend of his, this little toy, something had happened. The angry, opinionated, verbal sparring partner was gone.

What had happened to his play thing?

He sighed and lit his wand, bending over the newest letter from his mother, unable to shake the feeling that something had simply rolled out of the Weasley, and the fiery haired female didn't know what to do without it.

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I should have known by your eyes. I shouldn't have dismissed the wetness on your shirt, I should have commanded you to give me your story, screamed myself raw.

But I still hated you. But I was in love and lust with another. But we were only shagging buddies.

So many but's, my love, and not one of them worthy.