Warning for suicidal thoughts/attempted suicide.
When Ginevra Weasley boards the RMS Titanic, she's been engaged for ten weeks. Her fiance, Harry, is a nice enough man, she supposes — it's the fact that she's about to be tied down for the rest of her life with someone she's not completely comfortable with. Harry is a family friend, but Ginny has only seen him as a brotherly figure, not as husband potential.
But it's necessary, she knows, because her father had recently lost his job, a job that was feeding a wife and seven children. Harry had generously offered to support them, but the Weasley parents had come up with a better solution (in their eyes, not Ginny's), and proposed that he marry the youngest and only Weasley girl. Ginny is only seventeen, but old enough to get married, and Harry is an eligible bachelor with a bank balance heavier than her house.
So, like a chess piece, she'd been sacrificed to benefit the rest of the family. One less mouth to feed, one less person taking up space, and Ginny would be financially secured for the rest of her life. She feels like a pawn — underappreciated, undermined — but it's not in her hands.
But she admits, the thought of a sea journey excites her — the ocean breeze streaming through her hair, gripping the rails and gazing at the endless sea.
"Everything all right, love?" Harry asks and she almost tells him not to call her "love", but then she remembers they're in public.
Forcing a genial smile to her face, Ginny lies. "I'm fine, darling. Just a little apprehensive about our upcoming journey."
"That's natural," her fiance replies. "Don't worry, nothing's going to happen."
I hope so, she thinks.
She and Harry have rooms on the upper floors and Ginny feels sickened as she watches the lower class trudge downstairs — she would have been among them if she weren't engaged to a rich man.
"Is everything to your liking, miss?"
So many lies. She nods, and the staff member bows and exits the room. And Ginny allows her eyes to sweep over the luxurious suite. It's a suite fit for royalty, with an enormous bed and antique decorations. Every item in the room is gilded and looks like it would fetch a price larger than her engagement ring.
Harry enters the room behind her and presses a hand to her shoulder, causing her to jump with surprise. "Does everything seem okay? Do you like the room?"
Before she answers, Ginny makes sure the door is closed behind him. "It's a bit extravagant for my tastes," she admits. "It's an elegant room, but I'd prefer something simpler."
Harry doesn't judge her or mock her; he merely nods his head. "That's okay. But I'm afraid the lower deck is full," he jokes. Ginny eyes him pointedly and he shuts up.
"I guess this will have to do," she says, sighing.
"But if you really think about it," Harry says, "you won't be spending much time in here — you'll only be using it to sleep and get dressed. You can spend the rest of your time elsewhere on the ship — I hear they have a marvelous food selection."
"Is it too late to switch rooms, then? I want to be closer to the kitchens." She grins, trying to jest, and it works — Harry chuckles. Or perhaps he pities her poor sense of humor.
Well, if they're to be married, he's going to have to perfect the art of pity laughing.
Dinner is...mild torture, at best. Ginny has to converse with prim and proper nobles twice or thrice her age, but their wives are even worse — they keep fawning over Harry and criticize Ginny for everything, from her wardrobe to her complexion.
Ginny is peeved by the end of the meal and she storms out of the dining room in a huff. Down the corridor, up the steps to the deck, and runs for the stern. Blinking back tears of frustration, she gazes at the softly-churning waves below. The ocean seems to beckon her.
Come forth, and forget...you will never have to worry about not being enough. You are not perfect like there...take the plunge.
It's like a siren calling to her, inviting her. As if in a trance, she climbs over the stern, her skirt hiked up and cold metal pressing into her thighs —
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Ginny is jerked out of her trance and nearly pitches into the sea. Warm hands wrap around her hips and pull her back, safely onto the deck.
"Let go of me!" she gasps, struggling, and tries to elbow the mysterious person, but the person's body falls out of her reach as the hands release her hips.
She whirls around, her mouth parted to rebuke her "savior", but words fail her as she sees her for the first.
Windblown blonde hair. Grey-blue eyes turned silver in the moonlight. It's a woman; the first woman Ginny has seen not wearing finery. Instead, her clothes are thin and flimsy with splatters of vivid paint decorating the front.
"I…" Ginny can't speak. This woman is obviously third class if her lack of decorum is any indication. She doesn't speak with the polished voice of a noblewoman, instead with a hardened edge, like she's had to struggle all her life.
Ginny knows this feeling all too well.
"Were you thinking of jumping?" the woman says placidly.
It's the strangest feeling, but Ginny feels comfortable around this woman; she knows she can't be judged and is allowed to be vulnerable and open. No one watching her like a hawk, criticizing her for a single misstep.
"I don't know," she whispers. "I'm not sure. One second I was thinking, the next I was climbing over and my mind went blank…"
The woman says nothing, cocking her head to one side. Finally, she murmurs, "I think I understand you."
"What…?"
"I want to escape too," the woman continues. "Sometimes I contemplate letting things end. I feel like ruining the natural order of life. It's my life, after all, and I should take control. Not let others dictate."
Ginny stares at her, her mind marinating the woman's words. That's...exactly how she felt, down to the letter.
"I — that's how I feel," she says tentatively. And then, after a beat, she sticks out a hand. "I'm Ginny."
"Luna." Her hands are as rough as sandpaper. She's smiling and Ginny's stomach rolls a bit when she notices how pretty Luna's smile is.
Luna is refreshing, she thinks, and someone who she could be friends with in another life. Not this one, though, because they're supposed to be worlds apart.
They stand like that, hands clasped, gazing at each other for a long, long time —
— until Harry's voice shatters the silence.
"Darling?" He emerges from below, the same way she'd come. "I'm sorry, I'd have come sooner, but that damned man wouldn't stop —"
Harry halts as his eyes lock on Ginny and Luna, their hands still melded together. Ginny's face flares with heat and she yanks her hand back, letting it dangle uselessly at her side.
"I just came up to get some fresh air," she explains rapidly. "I was peering over the edge and I almost fell, but luckily Luna saved me."
Luna nods, her lips sealed. Harry's eyes dart to Ginny and he rushes over. "You almost fell? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she says. Harry turns grateful eyes towards Luna while sliding an arm around Ginny's waist and pulling her into his side.
"Thank you," he says, emotion-filled. "Thank you so much."
Luna's eyes are moving between them, but she nods again. "It was no problem at all," she says, her voice barely audible over the wind. "I must be going —"
"Wait!" Harry calls and Luna turns around. "As a thank you for saving her life, will you join us for dinner in first class tomorrow night?"
Ginny sucks in a breath; while Harry is correct in his assumption, it's impolite — but who is she to judge?
Luna's expression is inscrutable, but a "Yes, I would be honored" leaves her lips.
Ginny sneaks a peek at Luna during the dinner — she looks so out of place with her threadbare clothes; she had offered to lend Luna a dress but was stoutly refused.
"I'd rather be myself," she'd said, and Ginny was left confused. How could someone not want to fit in?
As Harry discusses politics with some of the older gentlemen at their table, Ginny leans over to Luna.
"Enjoying yourself?"
Luna starts, her eyes wide and curious. "I suppose," she answers vaguely. "I do love the artwork and scenery of the room, it tickles my muse."
"...Alright," Ginny says, smiling. Luna is definitely refreshing after the stuffy life of luxury Ginny had been living for the duration of her engagement.
In fact, there is something quite irresistible about Luna that makes Ginny gravitate towards her — Luna doesn't care about appearances, but she knows how to appreciate beauty when she sees it. She doesn't care about money or etiquette. She's just here to value life and the act of living.
Ginny thinks she'll get along quite well with her.
1556 words
Auction - Titanic!AU