Ginny had woken from a restless sleep. She could not believe what had happened and now she was alone. She didn't think of how Ron must have been feeling...or if he even knew. Surely he did. If Ginny had worked it out...
She sat before of her mirror. In the edges of it were photos of her with her friends, a few recent ones of her and Harry. She looked back at her smiling and laughing self. Her and the gang. Her with her fellow Quidditch Team. Her and Harry.
She sighed as tears welled up in her eyes. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and pulled one of the many photos of her with Harry. It had been snowing. It was before they started dating officially, and someone had started a snowball fight. Ginny was wrapped protectively in his arm and she was covered in packed snow. But they were laughing.
She looked down at the picture and she smiled softly, running her finger down Harry's face. He was patting her hair, looking adoringly at her while Ginny was completely oblivious, looking at the camera. She remembered the day above all others because it was the first time Harry had hugged her so close.
She had been thinking about it all night. His breath, his smile, his hug... everything. She sighed as she looked down at the photo. All lies. Even then he had been thinking about Her. She threw the photo across the room, her tears going from sadness to anger.
She started ripping all the photos down from the mirror and threw them behind her. Sitting on her chair by the desk, she grabbed everything and threw them at the walls. Her school supplies went flying along with the rest of her things, potion jars opening and sending ingredients flying all over everything she owned. A pencil flew across the wall and stuck into it as the anger continued to over take the sadness. She grabbed anything in sight and threw them away, just trying to get the emotions out. She screamed not a scream of horror or pain, but simple animalistic emotion.
She even attempted to claw at herself, tugging at the light fabrics that made up her school uniform, eventually feeling so tired she fell to the floor, sobbing loudly. She picked up her lamp and threw it against the wall, hearing the bulb shatter.
Finally she stopped her eyes red and sore from the force, her throat hoarse from the screaming. She looked out her window, watching the werewolf blood drip down the frame and puddle on the windowsill. Slowly, her hands shaking, she reached out and got her scissors. She grabbed her long red locks in one hand, gripping tightly as Harry used to in his feverish kisses.
The memory caused fresh tears but nothing fell. She sliced through her red locks, cutting the waist length strands until they sat just above her shoulders, She continued until it all matched. She watched as her hair formed small piles around her almost like she was shedding her identity.
Finally she stood before her mirror. Her room was righted again; a simple flick of her wand had fixed everything, including the werewolf blood from her sill. She looked at herself in the mirror, patting her new shorter hair. It was free and refreshing, having it scrape along the back of neck and the tops of her shoulders.
She pointed her wand at herself and transformed her once drab and boring clothes into new, more stylish. She wore a woollen shirt that had long sleeves, yet the bodice was tighter. It hung from one shoulder revealing her white skin. She also wore dark blue jeans that flared at the bottom.
She looked down at herself and nodded. The new look and new clothes made her feel like a whole new person.
A person who was not inlove with Harry Potter
