Even Angels Fall
Author's note: This is dedicated to my friend Beth, who demanded a fic.
She stares at her reflection and curls a hanging red strand around her index finger. She lets it fall again, and watches as it makes a perfect spiral. Perfect, like the rest of her. Perfect, like her life.
Yeah, right.
Footsteps echo on the cold, hard marble floor outside the room, footsteps ready to take her to a new life, to her new hell, so different than her old one. She stands and smooths out her dress, and leans forward to check that her freckles are fully covered by makeup.
So be it.
But try as she might to block them out, happier times float forward and consume her.
Several Years Previously
Ginny Weasley forced a smile as her mother burst into the room and began to make excited, tearful exclamations before moving on to Hermione. Though it was technically Hermione's day, no one could help focusing their attention on the more beautiful, tragic redhead, who they regarded as a bomb liabel to explode at any moment.
She wasn't, really. Her calm self rationalized that it wasn't Hermione's fault that she'd found a true, successful love. Maybe she'd found it after Ginny had, but Ginny had to remember that she was in love with a man who could never put her first, above all else.
He was there. Ginny couldn't hear him, or see him, but she could sense him. She wondered what would happen that evening, after a few glasses of wine. They'd never been able to fully break it off. If they had, it would torture her so much less.
As Molly began to fix the mess she'd made of her makeup, Ginny moved slowly toward Hermione and fondly brushed a smooth, regular curl out of her friend's face. She was happy for Hermione and her brother. She truly was. She's always wanted this and known it would happen eventually. Everyone had known, except perhaps clueless Ron.
She smiled, remembering the look on his face the first time Hermione had gone out with a different boy from Hogwarts and he'd realized that it was all wrong, and that he'd seen her as a girl in the way he should have, since their fourth year. It had been around the same time that Harry and Ginny had had sex for the first time after their solemn, noble pact to stay apart.
Ginny remembered her earliest imaginings of her life with Harry. She remembered how she would have lost her virginity to him on their wedding night, amidst candles and flowers and romantic music. Quite the contrast to the times they'd gone at it in the Room of Requirment, or late at night in the empty common room. Disregarding that their love could kill her, and that they could never, ever be together for real.
Hermione's father – a non descript muggle who's name Ginny could never quite remember- arrived in the room and the three of them prepared to leave. Ginny smoothed out hhatederhated hair, hugged her friend and walked out ahead of the two of them.
Ron was at the end of the aisle, peering around her for a glimpse of his bride. Harry was beside him. Ginny offered him a half smile. She knew this should have been their day. He knew as well. Neither were dillusional to think that one day it would be.
Finally they reached the end. Harry stared obviously at his first love as Ron and Hermione spoke their vows and were married. As they kissed, as the crowd cheered. He couldn't care less. He wanted to, but it was impossible. Sighting her was too rare of an event for him to see anything else.
His hand blindly sought hers as they followed Hermione and Ron down the aisle. She shuddered slightly, wishing he would stay away and wishing he would not.
"I like your dress," he said later. They were dancing. They'd always been dancing. Had they ever stopped? She smiled. Her smiles didn't shine in the same way without him around.
"Thanks. Hermione wanted pink but I wouldn't let her," said Ginny, referring to the dark green colour of her bridesmaid's dress.
He seemed about to say something, but couldn't find the words. She nestled her head into his shoulder, knowing she wouldn't be so near him until someone else got married, or born, or died. It wasn't like he showed up for summer vacation any more.
As Ginny stepped back, she noticed her mother's gleaming eyes on her. She knew Molly was counting the days until the Chosen One, her surrogate son, would become her son for real, and marry her daughter, let her live happily ever after.
Smiling, Ginny reached up and lightly touched his cheek, his scar. She pulled off his glasses so his green eyes shone clearer at her. His lips met hers as she leaned up to him, knowing her action before she knew it. She clasped a hand around his neck to hold him in close as his slipped around her waist. They held on to each other for what felt like forever. But it couldn't be forever. Such a dangerous, passionate love was not meant for forever.
Later, Ginny danced with Ron, with Bill, with George, with everyone. She exchanged pleasentries and accepted flattery, but everyone could tell that her heart wasn't in it. That her heart wasn't in it until later in the evening, when the guests sent good wishes to Ron and Hermione as they left for their honeymoon, and Ginny and Harry disappeared upstairs into a room.
It was that night. That night that was the last, the most important, the most passionate. It was that night that led Ginny to what she knew to be the truth. It was that which led her to her future.
Present Time
Hermione comes through the door and offers a half smile, her hands settled on her round stomach. Ginny gets up to follow her, fiddling with an emerald in her ear, looking at her white gown, her lace veil and knowing it was a lie.
Together they walk to the chapel. Ginny lets her eyelids slid closes when she catches sight at the man at the end of the aisle, mentally changing him into her tall, dark haired, gren eyed lover. Her lover forever, no matter what happened.
Ginny smiles at Harry as she walks down the aisle. Words dance through her mind, words she should have spoken:
"Harry, my love, it could never be us." She knows it's true.
So she keeps on walking.