Decided to continue this. Currently a little AU - The locket Harry found with Dumbledore was really a Horcrux, not a fake put there by R.A.B. I might come up with a back story for this, but for the moment I don't think it's that important, so yeah, we're in AU world. I won't do that again, try not to focus on it!
Harry was gone when she woke up.
Gone, just like that. And with him, all her little wishes and possibilities of him remembering that he was indeed mad about her were vanished into thin air. Harry was gone. He'd left her. What he'd said at Dumbledore's funeral, he'd actually meant. He hadn't even kissed her goodbye.
She couldn't shake off the feeling that his nobility was simply a more original act to replace the old "I'll owl you" line.
Boys aren't worth the bother, she thought angrily. She hopped out of bed, and fell.
Now, that was weird….what had happened? She stood up, and looked back at her bed to see it hovering a couple of feet off the floor. Once she blinked, it was seated back to its original place and Ginny, head full of visions of brilliant green eyes and soft, long-fingered hands, continued with her half-felt rant.
"Mum," she said, entering the kitchen, "are the others gone, then?"
Mrs Weasley turned to face her youngest daughter, and her eyes were red from crying.
"Gone!" she cried shrilly, "Just like that! Gone! My two precious boys, and Hermione too! They didn't even wake me. They left quietly early this morning! Quiet as mice! What could they possibly be doing? How could they just leave! Don't they know how worried I am about them! What are they up to, Ginny? Surely they must have told you!"
"I'm sorry, mum. I know as much as you do." Ginny shook her head, quietly kicking herself. She should have stayed awake all last night, she should have made them bring her, she should have screamed and cried until they had to bring her.
Now it was too late.
Ginny walked slowly back to her room, and stood still by the door. Her room was still and lonely. The house seemed very, very quiet. It was only Ginny left now with her parents. Her dad was at work and her mum was still in the kitchen, crying silently. There was nobody for her to talk to. She stayed standing, and uncertainty and desperation clawed at her. How would she survive the summer? She'd never felt so alone in her life. Tears gathered in her eyes but did not fall, and she moved to sit on her bed. She couldn't think of one thing she wanted to do, except see Harry again.
It was going to be a long summer.
Ginny woke up the next day and knew, without warning, that the world was suddenly different and that her bed was floating again. She lay there and stared at the ceiling. Why was her bed floating? And why wasn't she more afraid?
She hopped off and didn't fall this time. She observed it, her heart thudding dully and slowly. She wasn't really sure what to do. What would her mum say if she saw Ginny's bed floating? How strange!
Then, with a sudden urge, Ginny raised her hand, palm facing the floor. The bed rose to be level with her hand. She brought her hand down and the bed lowered, reaching the ground gently. Something inside her was excited but neither surprised nor scared.
Ginny turned to face her lamp and reached out her hand to it from a couple of feet away. It rose and flew to her, attaching itself to her hand. She let it drop to the ground, then made it return to the press again, all with her hands. Her wand was on the dresser beside her bed, untouched.
If she could do wand magic with her hands, could she do more?
Ginny rushed to the mirror and looked at herself. Then she put her hands to her face and smoothed it down, thinking hard of Hermione. A glance later told Ginny she'd just transformed herself into her friend. Ginny put her hands to her mouth, thinking of Hermione's voice, and when she said, "Wow," it was Hermione's voice that said it, deeper and cleverer than Ginny's squeaky one.
Do I even need my hands? Ginny thought again, thought of her own dark red hair and petit little body and her own little small voice and pretty glittery eyes. When Ginny opened her eyes, she saw her own real reflection blinking back at her.
Can I do anything? Ginny closed her eyes once again and imagined an ugly big orange cat. Without seconds, she heard Crosshanks dirty meow even though she knew the cat should be off on the travels with Hermione, Harry and Ron. Ginny sent the cat back to where it should have been and instantly wanted to summon Harry to her.
But I can't, she thought sadly. Then he would know the truth, and Ginny didn't want to share her powers with anyone. Not even Harry. She didn't think he'd approve somehow.
The summer past quite quickly, despite what she'd earlier thought. Ginny became occupied with discovering her new powers; her mother saw little of her. She was tired though; the powers seemed to drain her sometimes. She found comfort in mediating, sitting very still outside in the quiet. Her mum was bewildered but didn't question her motives.
She found she could do almost anything. She began transfiguring new clothes for herself, it made her feel better. She gave herself new hairstyles, up styles, short styles, new bangs. Her mum and dad never really noticed, or maybe they just didn't want to. Ginny found that she didn't care. She was used to not getting attention from her family, and now she didn't need to care. Now, all of a sudden, it all seemed extremely unimportant and irrelevant.
She found that she was becoming much prettier. With her hair up in a fancy bun with some stray curls falling over her face (her hair could never be curled, always staying iron-board straight), she looked older. She almost changed everything about herself, subtle changes that made the total result much better. Ginny smiled at herself in the mirror now.
The day that she was to begin Hogwarts was the day when Ginny realised she could do some awesome things. Her mum was shaking her as she always did, yelling at her to wake up or they'd miss the train. Ginny felt a strange surge of irritation and pointed her hand at her mother, crying, "Freeze!"
Her mother froze.
Ginny, struck by inspiration, lifted herself from the bed and stretched out her arms, shouting, "Freeze!"
Time froze.
She knew instinctively. Which was great for Ginny. She'd always been a little uncomplicated, in her thoughts, reaching the nice and easy conclusion, rather than bother search for a more complex one. She knew messing with time was not very safe, but she didn't really think of the implications. Or she just didn't care much anymore.
It meant she could have a few more hours lie-in. Ginny, ignoring her mum's frozen form, snuggled back into her warm bed, and rested more peacefully than she had in some time.
When she awoke, she felt much more refreshed. Smiling lazily at her mum, she said "Unfreeze!" And once her mum was unfrozen, so was time, and the world returned to its normal order.
"Up, Ginny! You must get up!"
"Yes, mum, I'm up. I'll be ready in a few minutes. We won't miss the train."
Her mum looked taken back from Ginny's fast response. It had always been a difficult task to get Ginny up – one of the only jobs Mrs Weasley happily gave to the twins and one they always happily did, unfortunately for Ginny (who's spent some mornings on the train, ears still ringing from their loud horns or hair still slightly wet from the cold jugs of water they'd sent chasing after her around the Burrow) .
Ginny got ready at her own pace, knowing she could slow down time if she had to. She put up her hair again, moulding it easily with her hands into perfection. She'd already improved the texture and shine of it. She rubbed her skin, adding a few cute carefully placed freckles on to her nose, just for the fun of it (since she'd removed them all yesterday) and made a new outfit for herself, just to wear on the train. Shed already adjusted her uniform, ironing it out with a flick on her hand and adding a few cute plaits into her skirt. Her shirt was white and new (she hadn't had a new one since first year) and her cloak was clean and the texture was now velvet and soft – expensive, yet it hadn't cost her a penny.
Her mum looked at her as she entered the kitchen. Ginny made her own toast (and hurried up the process) and didn't say a word to her.
"Are you okay, Gin? You're okay, aren't you?"
"Of course, mum."
"I wonder where your brother is."
"Me too, mum." In truth, Ginny hadn't really been thinking of Harry, Ron or Hermione. Or anybody. But she was excited about starting Hogwarts again with her new powers. Sixth year was going to be fun.
Her Muggle outfit was not her normal rags. Instead, she was wearing tight jeans and a black jumper. She felt comfy and fashionable. Her hair was up now, and her skin perfect. Everything was perfect. She hid the Horcrux under her jumper.
She wasn't a fool. Although she hadn't thought at all about the origin of her new powers, she wasn't silly enough to take it off.
She didn't really say goodbye to her mother and was oddly only civil to her. The woman annoyed her now. Before Ginny had craved her shared portion of affection, now it only irked her. She couldn't wait to be with her classmates again – she couldn't wait to show off the new her. Her mum looked worried, but still left before the train had taken off. Ginny lifted her own luggage into the train. It was light, she didn't need to bring much with her after all – she'd only brought her limited old wand as an after thought for classes.
She walked through the hall of the train and thought only one thing: Notice me.
They did. They all stared, and beckoned her into their carriage, and called out to her. She'd never felt so elevated in her life. She didn't once think of Harry. They thought was beautiful, and they wanted to be with her. The only thing that mattered to Ginny at that moment was what they thought of her.
She was pondering what people she would grace with her presence, when she was pulled into a carriage, not harshly but powerfully. She froze time without thought and saw her attacker. It was Blaise Zabini. She backed away from him, and unfroze time, curious as to what he wanted with her.
"I wasn't frozen," he said instantly. "I was just shocked that you are freezing time already."
"Excuse me?" There goes her idea that she'd already made a Slytherin fall under her charms.
"I might as well tell you now, Weasley," he spat, "that your magic won't work on me. So don't bother."
"I haven't done anything to you, Zabini!" she responded angrily.
"No, but you've been playing with dark magic, haven't you? Making everyone think you're the be-all-and-end-all. It won't work on me. I see you for what you really are."
"I don't understand," she told him truthfully.
"Ever since I was a baby, I've been immune to all magic. Ever wonder why I never interrupt into Draco's duels with your little friends? I couldn't be found out, the Dark lord can't know, or Merlin knows what he'd make me do. That isn't the subject matter here, however, the subject matter is how you, a simple girl, have managed to obtain such dark magic…" His voice trailed off, his eyes lowering to her chest. "You've found one, haven't you? And you put it on…?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said coldly, "but I don't care. I'm leaving."
"So go. But you would have already, if you wanted to do so. So why're you still here? Because you're curious yourself… you know I know the truth. So…tell me. Are you or are you not wearing a Horcrux around your neck?"
And she found herself nodding, despite herself.
He was close to her, all of a sudden, dark hands stroking the locket through her clothes. She shivered at his touch, although she could barely feel it. Her eyes looked into his deep brown ones, and she couldn't really breathe. She'd never realised how handsome Blaise was before, but then she'd never even heard him speak before now or spared him a second thought.
"Take it off, Ginny," he whispered to her now, using her first name. "take the Horcrux off."
"No."
"Take it off!" His voice was stronger this time.
"No!"
He tried to pull it off, and she suddenly felt a clap of anger come from her and strike him hardly, leaving a mark on his face as if a whip had just slashed him. He was bleeding.
"You silly little girl," he said, anger on his face but his demeanour and voice still calm and indifferent. The blood dribbled down his neck. "You'll put us all in danger. You don't know what you're playing with, you really don't."
"Leave me alone!" she cried, and, with another clap, he was doubled over and clutching his stomach. She couldn't see through his clothes but she knew he was bleeding again.
"You. Silly. Little. Girl." His teeth were gritted together, pain evident on his face, but his brown eyes were still locked on hers.
"I can't take it off," she told him, blood rushing in her ears. "I need it. You don't understand…"
"You're addicted to it, to the power. But know this, Weasley, you can have all the power in the world and still be unhappy. I can see you now, for what you really are, and your eyes are blood red from that dark power. Can you see it? Look into the mirror and think about seeing what you really are, not what you want to make yourself into it. You might be surprised."
She conjured up a mirror, her hand shaking. He remained there, observing her. She looked at herself and saw the sleek hair, up in its beautiful style, and her fashionable clothes and new figure. She saw her perfect skin, her fake freckles and her shiny, pretty eyes.
"Now look closer," Blaise told her, leaning forward.
She leaned into the mirror, until her forehead was touching it and, almost instantly her outfit turned into her old-style clothes, hand-me-downs, almost rags. Her hair was down again, in no style and almost impossibly long and dull, with no curls or kinks. Her skin was rosy and freckly and imperfect. Her figure was flatter and childlike again. And her eyes were sapphire red, opaque and ugly. The eyes of an animal. The eyes of Voldemort.
She was ugly again. The mirror was banished from her sight immediately and all her spells reapplied again, in less than a second. Blaise was smirking, and she couldn't help but hate him.
"Not too pretty, is it?" he taunted.
"And that's what you see, is it? Where everyone else sees perfection, you see that." Her voice was bitter and cross.
"Yes."
She turned away from him, feeling oddly defenceless, almost naked.
"And you know all of the spells I cast?" she questioned.
"Yes," he said. "I can feel them. I don't know why or how. I just know."
She didn't want to talk to him anymore. Everything felt like it had turned sour on her.
"But when I hurt you, you felt it," she argued half-heartedly.
"Yes," he said, "but if I'd been more prepared, I would have stopped it. It was only a second. No lasting effects, that's a more accurate way of explaining than just immune. I can feel magic, just not be under any spells or obtain any lasting effects." He pointed to his cut on his face, which was indeed completely healed already. Ginny had the feeling he had only been waiting for someone to talk to about his condition – did nobody else know?
"Why're you telling me?" She couldn't help but be curious.
"Because you can't tell anyone, or I'll tell them about your new powers."
"And you won't tell if I don't?" She couldn't keep the hope from her words.
"For the time being," he said. "But I'll be watching."
She crossed her arms and couldn't quite look at him, staring at the wall beside her instead. She could feel his dark eyes on her. She wished he'd stop looking at her like that – like he could really see everything dark that was inside her, every mean thought or unfriendly day-dream she might have had.
"But one of your spells did work on me, Ginny," he told her, and his voice was soft, a complete contrast to before. "I have noticed you."
When she looked back at him sharply, he was already gone, and she was left in the carriage, alone. And, despite the fact that everyone except Blaise would beg her to join them in their carriage, that suddenly didn't matter quite so much anymore, and she stayed on her own for the rest of the journey, and used no more of her new powers.
Gonna continue with this, mainly just because my inspiration for Three is kind of gone for a break, and I am stuck with the next chapter of Thirst. So...yeah...I like this story, it's just NEW! I am going to write Ginny completely different to how I write Hermione. I think Ginny's a little simplier and quite immature. She's not like Hermione - a constant worrier - she's a real "girl." This story'll be about her growing up a lot, finding her strength (because I don't think she could change so quickly. I think she's still that same little girl, back in first year)and about the consquences of her actions, and about Blaise. A new character to me too. There'll be Draco/Hermione in this too, but not straight away.
Thanks to:
Riah riddle, sugar-n-spice, poke-the-sleeping-dragon, Twinkling Blue Eyes (Good advice. I think when she reveals to harry that she never gave up on him, it porves that she still cares. that the rest of it all was a bit of an act)), Seghen (Great updates, keep 'em coming!), illyria-light, Thwarted Moony, WalkBeneathTheWillowTrees, loeuy31 (I will. This story is all about her finding her strength), Vedgirl102 (No death threat? sadness ) Sycoticatalast (Your name is so long!)
