Chapter Two: Somehow I Tried To Belong
In most places, sliding down the bannister would be a rather benign activity but at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where the bannisters moved as regularly or irregularly as they pleased the enterprise became shockingly dangerous or rather 'devil-may-care' as Ginny Weasley liked to think of it, in fact she rather cultivated her lifestyle around the phrase. So to those who knew her or even knew of her it didn't seem entirely out of character for Ginny to be sitting side-saddle on said bannister poised to slide from the third floor and on down to the Great Hall for a hearty breakfast of peach oatmeal and bacon. As she adjusted her balance and prepared for take-off Ginny couldn't help but think that she might have an adrenaline problem, that and of course her need to see the awe of her peers should she pull it off without getting caught. This wasn't an actual concern as Ginny, unlike her twin brothers, never got caught.
With a deep breath and a firm push Ginny is off and sliding down the bannister, using her magic to get her around the newel at the end of each section of stair; her crimson hair flying, eyes bright, she laughs all the way. She moves too quickly to see the finer details of the paintings she passes as some cry out and others race after her, though she imagines the tizzy her actions have cast them into and throws them a jaunty wink as recompense. Too soon her joy ends with a slam that is definitely going to leave bruises along the right side of her hip. She hops off the bannister planting her feet succinctly back into reality. Ginny turns about face and gives a deep and mocking bow to the applauding group of Gryffindors, several Hufflepuffs, and singular Ravenclaw that had been awaiting the results of her morning sojourn down the stairs.
"Well, give it over" she demands, holding her palm out to a disgruntled Ron who then digs around in the pocket of his slacks dropping three brown knuts into her hand. Ginny counts them with no small ceremony, offering him a wide grin in response.
"It was hardly a fair win" Ron grumbles, "you used magic!"
"I'm a witch Ron, it's my prerogative to use magic whenever I please. Additionally, it was never explicitly stated that I couldn't!" Ginny exclaims with a firm shake of her head.
"Don't listen to Ron, I think you were brilliant Gin." Harry says with a warm smile lighting up his face, his green eyes twinkling with mischief. Ginny looks down, blushing prettily.
Fred and George push through the crowd, slinging an arm around Ginny on either side. "Oh, Gin you're brilliant!" Fred exclaims in falsetto. "I'd like you to slide down my bannister sometime!" George simpers. Ginny looks at him abashed and punches him harshly in the arm. The surrounding party is a mix of laughter and disturbed glances.
"Too far, mate" says Fred as he shakes his head.
"Yeah, didn't think that one through." replies George, rubbing the back of his neck with a complexion as red as his hair.
"Right, I think that signals breakfast!" Fred says, clapping his hands together as he walks towards the Great Hall with George and the remaining crowd in tow.
Luna flows out of the crowd and skips towards Ginny, wrapping her arms around her best friends neck and slowly turning them about, "Did you feel the wings of the Flupperwhy's as you descended?"
"Is that what that fluttery feeling was?" Ginny inquires with a genuine grin.
Luna hums in response. "They aid those of us that are aeronautically inclined. I knew they were about you, so I was unconcerned about your descent."
"Then I am glad to have had them. It got a bit tetchy there at the end." The girls break apart, linking arms, they head toward the doors of the Hall.
"You could've gotten hurt you know." a voice issues from the window seat in front of the Hall. The girls turn to see Hermione sitting on the stone ledge with a book propped in front of her and a disapproving glare maring her usually smooth brown skin.
"No Hermione I couldn't've, didn't you hear Luna? The Flutterwhy's were watching over me." Ginny states with a dumbfounded shake of her head.
"Flupperwhy" corrects Luna.
"Yeah, those" Ginny allows.
Hermione slams her books with a huff, slinging her bag over her shoulder and joining Luna and Ginny in their resumed walk towards the Great Hall. "Ginny, you know that's a load of tosh."
"No Hermione I don't. Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it isn't real." Ginny bites back. Luna squeezes her arm in support.
Hermione winces, "Ginny, I didn't mean it like that...I was just worried about you is all."
"I know 'mione it's fine." she pauses, a smile jumping to her face once more, "I smell bacon!" Ginny exclaims, dropping Luna's arm and grabbing both her and Hermione's hands, yanking them excitedly through the doors of the hall and over to the Gryffindor table.
Ginny deposits them roughly directly in front of the bacon as she swipes five crispy rashers, shoving at least three into her mouth, humming in delight.
"Ginny! I know for a fact Mrs. Weasley taught you better manners than this." admonishes Hermione. Meanwhile, Luna has grabbed a bowl of oatmeal and begun building a bacon fort within its viscous clutches. Hermione continues to eye both of them in a mix between affrontment and barely concealed horror.
Ginny swallows with a giant gulp that couldn't have been anything less than painful,
"What mum doesn't know won't drive her into an early grave, dearest Hermione." Hermione simply reopens her book, occasionally taking a dainty bite from her jammy toast.
"So, are you excited for your first match tomorrow Gin?" inquires Harry, seated a few spots down from Ginny.
"Ecstatic!" she pauses through bites of oatmeal, "Though I do feel terrible for Katie."
"Has anyone heard from her recently?" asks Harry, his voice tinged with concern.
"The caterwauling charm Goyle placed on the room he locked her in seems to have shattered her eardrum, she's still deaf in both ears though I don't believe Madam Pomfrey has referred her to St. Mungo's yet." Hermione replies without looking up from her book.
"Have they found her wand?" Ron asks around his mouthful of eggs.
"Snapped and shoved in a suit of armour next to the classroom he had her in. I hear Headmaster Dumbledore is considering expulsion. It's terribly taboo to snap a wizard or witches wand in such a way." Hermione answers, with only a brief glance of resigned disgust tossed in Ron's direction before she returns to her book.
"Someone's been spending too much time around Lavender and Pravati." Ginny observes with a snicker.
This grabs Hermione's attention, her head snapping up from her book and her eyes narrowing in on the laughing Ginny, "It's not like I want to share a room with them!
They talk so loudly that it's very hard not to overhear and information is information you know!"
"What a very Slytherin thing for you to say 'mione!" jests Ginny with a light shove.
"Well I hear they get their own rooms!" grumps Hermione.
"Three guesses where she heard that from." inserts Ron with a smile. Luna's hand shoots into the air in a way not entirely unlike Hermione's own habit of avid answering. Ginny calls on her best friend with a barely contained laugh shaking her voice.
"Lavender, Parvati, and as for a third I am not entirely sure as only two were mentioned earlier but my third would have to be Professor Snape." Luna answers calmly with an air of consideration lacing her voice and a tilted head to match.
Ginny and the others lose it, only Hermione is left in spluttering silence.
Once Ginny has composed herself enough to draw in breath she asks, "Why Professor Snape?"
To which Luna replies, "The unending depth of his eyes speaks to a great well of knowledge as does his indigo aura. Additionally, he and Professor McGonagall often gossip with one another. In fact, I believe they are engaging in the practice at this very moment." They all turn their heads to the staff table where, as Luna stated, Professors' McGonagall and Snape sit with their heads bent in deep conversation.
With senses that seem to be bestowed solely upon teachers, the Professors' look up, catching the startled eyes of their students.
Sensing disaster, Ginny whispers a barely audible "Fuck," to which even Hermione is too shaken to admonish.
"Abort, abort, abort" Ginny whispers as all involved beat a hasty but totally casual exit from the Great Hall. The group collapses around the corner in fit of exasperated laughs. Hermione is, of course, the first one to come to her senses, "We should probably all head to class before we're late."
Ginny goes slightly paler than normal, "I have double potions first…", knowing Snape's temperament, most especially when he suspects Gryffindor-related tom-foolery is afoot, they offer her looks of sympathy as they move off to other parts of the castle.
With a deeply heaved sigh and more than a bit of Gryffindor courage, Ginny heads down into the depths of the dungeons and most assuredly her doom.
Sitting at her cauldron midway through a draft of Bottinger's Elixir, Ginny is feeling rather put out. Snape has barely even looked in her direction all morning, he hasn't even bothered to criticize how she has mashed more than sliced her eel spleen and she knows he gets a particular pleasure with each snarky reprimand. In fact, Vishti Thomas hasn't tried to sabotage her potion a single time today either, a fact which would normally have her effusing with joy but is now only adding to her steadily increasing paranoia. Ginny looks to her left and nudges her station partner and fellow Gryffindor Marlena Toombs.
"What's up with everyone today?" she asks, her voice just above a whisper. Marlena responds by giving Ginny a look that could only ever mean, 'seriously, how can you be this dense', but all she actually says in a mysterious mumble that Ginny has to strain to hear, "Umbridge is everywhere…"
As Marlena goes back to stirring her cauldron and chewing on her straw blonde hair (a nervous habit she has possessed since they were firsties), Ginny ponders the wisdom in such a statement. Since Umbridge became High Inquisitor at the end of September and began her first round of class observances, the castle itself seems to be wracked with tension. Ginny tugs lightly on the hair leaking from her bun and moves her gaze to track Professor Snape as he makes his way around the room. It's true, he does seem tenser than usual, with posture so rigid that if he were to stand still he might be mistaken for a statue or at least a scarecrow. Curious to see how deep his concern for their current toad-esque predicament is, she raises her hand and calls him over. "Professor, I wondered if you thought the consistency of my spleen, or the eels I suppose, is the right thickness? The book isn't exactly clear..." her hazel eyes looking up to meet his own dark depths.
"The consistency is perfectly adequate, Miss Weasley." he says perfunctorily.
No it's not.
"It should produce the correct shade of aubergine." Snape ads seemingly as an afterthought.
It wouldn't without three mint leaves added in the last counterclockwise stir, which he well knew.
"Professor…" should she argue with him? Intentionally pick a fight? Feel his forehead for a fever? Instead, Ginny decides to simply say, "Thank you for your help, Professor."
"You are quite welcome Miss Weasley." he replies with a small nod as he slinks off, hands clasped behind his back. Ginny's jaw drops and she stares after him in shock for several moments before blinking harshly and numbly dropping the mint leaves into her cauldron. If Professor Snape, Grumpiest Man Alive, was going around being polite to dunderheads such as herself then she was truly concerned. He got through Loony Lockhart with barely a raised eyebrow, demented Dolores could hardly be a trial for him, could she? Perhaps, it was the terrible toad but with the added pressure of a rampaging dark lord? Whatever it was, Ginny firmly believed that the moment Severus Snape cracked they were all doomed; the man is a fortress. With that resounding thought, Ginny bottles up her perfectly aubergine potion and takes the neatly labeled draft up to the Professor's desk with a smile, receiving a polite nod in return (a 'well done' would be too much to ask even in his current state, but a girl can hope). Ginny picks up her cracked leather rucksack and quits the classroom just as the bell rings, her peers swarming around her.
As most of the rest of the castle is off to lunch, Ginny leisurely makes her way up to her favourite alcove in the second floor's east wing. She plops down in front of the stained glass reimagining of the fall of Goblin Lord Ulrich the Evil and pulls out her battered copy of Lady Audley's Secret, cracking the spine she smoothes out her dog-eared page and begins the ritual of her daily quiet hour. Or she tries to.
Usually so able to quickly slip into her reading, today Ginny finds herself distracted by every little thing around her, for example, the incessant tapping against the stone that she can't quite seem to find the source of-
She looks down.
Her pointed patent pleather oxfords are beating out a jaunty tune, which sounds a bit like a hybrid of 'God save the Queen' and 'Dancing Queen', against the grey stone of her alcove.
She still's her foot.
Perhaps a change of positioning is in order? Ginny crosses her ankles and swings her feet up so that they are resting in the corner of the wall nearest the mural, her hair and a good portion of her head hanging over the edge of the alcoves ledge. She grabs her book once more and holds it above her:
"He started as if he had been struck, and asked what she meant by talking of disappointment.
"I mean this," she said, speaking rapidly, and with a restless motion of her thin hands; "I mean that as the end of the voyage draws near, hope sinks in my heart; and a sick fear comes over me that at the last all may not be well. The person I go to meet may be changed in his feelings toward me; or he may retain all the old feeling until the moment of seeing me, and then lose it…"
Ginny huffs loudly and tosses her book next to her rucksack, folding her hands and looking up to the ceiling. Umbridge would have a fit if she saw Ginny's posture right now. Really, the nasty cow could have a fit over just about anything, what type of person walked around with a magical tape measure aggressively ensuring all students remained three inches apart at all times? Clearly someone that needed a good shag, if Ginny were braver she would tell her that, in fact if Ginny didn't have Quidditch to worry about she-
Ginny begins to bite her nails. She pauses. Rips her fingers from her mouth and hurriedly stands and begins to pace.
Quidditch.
She was nervous about the game tomorrow morning. The first match of the year. A match against Slytherin. A match in a season that almost didn't happen.
It seemed a doomed thing, this match. And now, due to an unfortunate series of occurrences Ginny found herself squarely at its center, a rookie chaser on the Gryffindor team.
Ginny knows she is a fabulous chaser, not only that, she can play every position with the ease of years of dedicated training. It is a known fact and the reason she-alone was approached to take over Katie's position while she's in hospital. She's not concerned about her ability to perform, in the past two weeks of hard training she has melded seamlessly with the team. It's not even that she has never played in front of a crowd, Ginny has been performing in front of crowds for two years and five months. Perhaps, it's that her arrival onto the team is a year earlier than she had planned? Or maybe it is simply the niggling feeling in the pit of her stomach that something very very bad is going to happen at tomorrow's match.
The bell clangs signalling the end of the lunch period, nudging Ginny out of her paranoia. She bends over grabbing her rucksack and book, promising herself that if by dinner she truly feels she can't face tomorrow's match she can always tell Umbitch to 'get fucked' in front of the entire school, thus ensuring Saturday detentions until the end of the year when something undoubtedly horrific befalls the Ministry stooge.
Four hours copying words out of a textbook was a harsh reminder to Ginny of exactly why she never wanted to be put in a position where she was made to spend extra time with Umbridge. Aligning perfectly with her character, in what any sane person would term risky behaviour she had transfigured and charmed Defensive Magic: Intermediate Spells for Youths in Danger by Armenth Strict within an inch of its life so that it appeared to be Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkard. After her first defense class with Umbridge, Ginny had the incredibly hair-brained idea to use the fourth year syllabus created by Professor Merrythought, the school's last stable Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. She was ½ way through annotating her current text and looked to start on the next by the end of the year. The way Ginny saw it, it was better to be slightly out of date with practices than having no idea what the practices were to begin with, they had war on after all, even if ¾ of the population was unwilling to admit it. So as Ginny continued firming up the muscles in her now buff right hand with each line of her quill along parchment she alone was learning the spells necessary to defend herself, she knew this was a problem but had yet to think of a safe way to remedy it. She had no faith in the ability of five hundred students to keep such a secret and it seemed riotously unfair for only a select few students to learn how to defend themselves. Placing a period at the end of her sentence, Ginny forcibly removed herself from her circuitous line of thought. She had absolute faith she would figure something out. Someone had to. He couldn't win.
Ginny clenched her fist only to be met with an intense spasm of cramps which she ruthlessly shrugged off and flipped to the next page of her text, her keen eyes alighting on something called the 'Bat Bogey Hex' just as the bell rang dismissing classes for the day. Ginny promptly dog-eared the page and shoved the contents of her desktop into her bag, maneuvering past her classmates and back up to the tower so she could collect her robes for a final Quidditch practice before tomorrow's game.
Three hours later, muddier and feeling marginally freer than she had all day, Ginny readjusted the grip of her arms around Fred's neck in an effort not to choke him as the team made their way back up to the castle, Ginny far too tired to walk had made use of one of the very small benefits of having brothers.
"We are sure to win tomorrow!" Angelina proclaims with her dreadlocks flying about her head in the fading light, a giant grin on her face.
"Oi, Lina you'll jinx us!" Alicia says with an equally large grin as she shoves a few wisps of hair that had leaked from her hijab back into place.
"Nah," says George as he slings his arm around Angelina's shoulder, casually kissing the side of her head, "The lady just knows how to recognize vast quantities of talent when she sees it!" he flexes a bicep.
Everyone but Harry cracks a smile, which Ginny is all too soon to notice (old habits died hard). "What's wrong Harry?" they all look at the small frown creasing his face and wait for a response, tension leaking into the once carefree atmosphere.
Harry looks up, shaking his head with his frown still firmly in place, "I just wish I had someone to carry me…" his forlorn attitude vanishes in a snap to be replaced with a grin as they all laugh at his antics.
"Aw, Harry all you had to do was ask!" Alicia says as she stops walking and bends her knees a bit, "Come on then, I've got strong thighs."
"Alicia, are you sure? I don't want to-" Harry calmours.
Alicia shoots him a stern look, "Harry you're seeker for a reason. You're all tiny and compact like a Comet 360."
"As long as you're sure." Harry says and without further ceremony climbs onto the taller and stronger girls back. They all resume their trek back to the castle and just as they make it up the steps they hear the telltale banging of hammer into nail as the stone of the castle is cleaved apart to make way for a new educational decree. Ginny and Harry slide off Fred's and Alicia's backs as they head through the castle doors and into the entrance hall where Filch stands astride the fifth step of a suspiciously rickety ladder. A great majority of the student body stops alongside them, some heading into dinner without even a glance at the sure to be ridiculous decree.
"What's it say?" Angelina asks Ginny; the person nearest the front of the queue.
"Educational Decree No. 35," she reads with her brow tensed in concentration, "All students are to be inside the castle 1 hour before sundown. No exceptions."
Angelina throws her arms up in the air, "How the hell are we meant to practice Quidditch now, the stupid bint?!" she makes her way towards the Great Hall, the team and the vast majority of the crowd following, save Ginny and Harry who remain behind staring stoically at the wall that is quickly being taken over by the Ministry.
"She's being ridiculous on purpose." Ginny puts forth.
"And it's only going to get worse." Harry says, running a hand through his already messy hair. Ginny hums in agreement, turning her head slightly to study him. She nudges him gently in the shoulder.
"You okay?" she asks
"Mm fine." he mumbles, nudging a small bit of fallen wall with his boot.
"Are not." she states. "Missing Sirius? Or maybe...Cedric? 'Mione mentioned you two had been swapping letters over the hols'."
Harry shoots a quick glance at Ginny before turning abruptly and staring at the wall of decrees though it is clear he sees none of them.
"It's not like that." he whispers with a barely audible shake in his voice.
"But it could be, you want it to be." Ginny pushes lightly with a considerate smile.
"Maybe," Harry says, his voice growing stronger, "He's coming to see us play tomorrow, told the Magpies he was scouting future talent." a blush creeps its way along his neck and up his face.
"He's coming to see you play, Harry. And the only thing he's going to be scouting out through those binoculars of his is your bum." Ginny says earnestly with a laugh. She loops her arm through his and begins to drag him into the Great Hall, "Come on, we best get to dinner before she starts to demand attendance counts at meal times." Harry huffs a laugh and they walk through the doors and over to the Gryffindor table, sitting down on either side of Hermione who takes a look at them both and banishes the dirt and stench from their clothes with a singular wave of her wand and a muttered word.
"Thank you 'mione." they chorus with good humour to which she responds with a small smile and a wave of her hand, returning to both the large tombe and dark stew in front of her.
"Mmm, that looks fabulous!" Ginny declares, dishing some of the same stew into her own bowl and nabbing a thick slice of bread which she immediately dunks into her stew, shoving it into her mouth with little ceremony. A sharp giggle across the table has Ginny casually looking up, meeting the shrewd olive gaze of her roommate and frenemy, Abigail Martin.
"Oh Gin, I was just telling Miranda that it would seem Titus Shafiq can't seem to keep his eyes off of you." she coos, her fingers twining through her perfectly styled brown hair.
"Or Draco Malfoy for that matter…" Miranda mutters, only to be elbowed sharply by Abigail. "What?! You know he was! He couldn't keep his eyes off of our table this morning at breakfast."
"Miranda dear, you are quite mistaken. Draco was looking at me this morning, not Ginny." Abigail states with a cheshire grin. "Not that you're not lovely Ginny but you would get quite a few more suitors if you stopped wearing those ghastly baggy clothes of yours. I mean the slacks alone do you a disservice, I bet you have lovely toned legs from all that Quidditch…" she says with a surveyor's gaze.
A brash grin slinks across Ginny's face, "Unfortunately, Abigail I don't quite return your affections. Though, if you dropped the bitchy mean girl act maybe I could see us going somewhere, you have the loveliest bronze skin." Abigail's jaw drops and she begins spluttering. Ginny smoothly stands nudging Hermione lightly, "We'll have to skip studying tonight, I should just make curfew as is."
Hermione looks up with curiosity, "I have patrol tonight with Parkinson anyway. Does tomorrow night work instead?"
"No, there'll be a party after our Quidditch win. But how about a 'study Sunday', you, me and Luna?"
"Someones cocky; alright, Sunday works." Hermione agrees.
"Ta. Oh, and 'mione try not to kill Parkinson. I don't think she means to be such an entitled brat, that's just how her parents raised her." Ginny moves off as Hermione calls after her, "Easier said than done!". Ginny laughs and throws a cursory glance at the Slytherin table, catching Shafiq's crystal blue eyes. She looks away just as quickly and makes her way out of the Hall and up the grand staircase, getting off at the third landing. She alone walks down the hallway and enters an empty classroom, desks lined up in neat rows and coated with a thin layer of dust; the windows on the left side of the room looking out onto the dark grounds where she can just see the light of Hagrid's hut in the distance. She uses her dragon heartstring and yew wand to throw a few orbs of warm light into the air.
The door creaks open behind her and she turns to see Shafiq enter, his fluffy black hair neatly styled to the side; she aims to fix that.
Ginny moves towards him with a light sway to her hips. She stops just in front of him and as his hands settle on her waist, she moves her own lightly up his torso, along his neck and face, sliding them firmly into his hair.
"Ginny," Shafiq protests weakly, he knows exactly what she is doing. This is not the first time they have played this game.
She looks up at him with a fierce hunger, "You're being too obvious," she tightens her grip in his hair, "people are starting to notice."
"What can I say Gin?" he whispers leaning down and butting his nose against hers, "You are simply too entrancing, and in this kit?" he fingers the fabric of her red and gold sweater, sliding his hand under the fabric and along her hard abdomen, "I could barely restrain myself from striding across the hall and devouring you then and there." Shafiq's voice is silky, his eyes filled with lust.
Ginny barks a laugh and closes the distance between them, their lips meet in a passionate kiss, Shafiq's eyes sliding closed. Ginny breaks the kiss, "Eyes stay open." she breathes the words into his mouth. Their eyes lock. His cold, crystal blue meeting her honey hazel. Their lips meet once more.
Ginny was right, she barely made it back before curfew. Blurting out the password to the disgruntled portrait of the Fat Lady, she moves through the portrait hole and into the common room out of breath. She makes a quick study of the room, and as expected she does not see Hermione or any of her brothers for that matter. She waves to a couple of students who call out to her in greeting and trudges tiredly up to her dormitory. Sliding into the oval-shaped room she sees her three roommates dotted about, Miranda and Abigail sit on Abigail's bed painting each other's nails with colour-changing polish and Marlena is kneeled on the stone floor rooting through her trunk, her hair hanging from her mouth. "You okay Marlena?" Ginny asks as she moves over to her bed by the room's window.
"I can't find my Divination book and I'm already a week behind on my stupid dream journal!" Marlena cries out, her voice steadily rising in panic.
Ginny goes to her walnut desk and grabs her own Divination book and hands it off to the panicking Marlena, "Here, you can borrow mine. Just toss it on the desk when you're done."
Marlena springs up, taking the book from Ginny, grabbing her hand and shaking it violently, "Thank you, thank you, thank you-"
Ginny pulls her hand gently from Marlena's and pats her on the shoulder, "Really, it's no big deal. And as far as the dream journal goes, you shouldn't take it too seriously. I always make mine up and Trelawney gives me full marks for it every week."
"Don't you ever remember your dreams?" Marlena asks curiously, looking at Ginny.
"You have to sleep to dream, Marlena." Ginny says with a hollow laugh. The silence stretches as Marlena looks at her, seemingly stricken.
Ginny laughs and forces a smile that would look genuine to anyone who didn't know her, "Only joking Lena." Ginny punches her shoulder lightly and Marlena laughs, relief obvious on her face.
Ginny turns and begins to dress for bed. She hasn't had a call that close since she forgot to put up the privacy wards in her room over last summer's hols' and woke up shouting for a certain dark lord, she cringes at the mere thought of the two hour shouting match and series of explanations that that brought on. She pulls on her over-large indigo Magdalena and the March Hare's band shirt and orange potion bottle boy shorts.
"Night girls!" Ginny says with a giant grin, "Oh, and Abby, might I say that you look simply delectable in your pink jimjams!" her eyes coquettish as she lasciviously takes in Abigails soft pink nightgown that fastens at her chin and would not be out of place in Victorian England.
Abby lets loose a scandalised laugh, used to Ginny's varying antics, "Shut up, Ginny!" she squeals, throwing a tasseled pillow that Ginny dives to miss. They all laugh at the display and with a final wave goodnight Ginny slides into her bed, closing the burgundy drapes with a swish. Her grin falls immediately from her face and with a bone-deep sigh Ginny taps her wand against the fabric, enabling her customary silencing wards that she wishes she would need (she would take nightmares and some sleep over no sleep at all, any day). Taking a deep breath she lies down in the most comfortable bed she could ever imagine- with the warmest blankets, the fluffiest of pillows, and the softest of feather mattresses and once again fails to fall asleep.
As the early winter sun creeps up over the trees of the Forbidden Forest, Ginevra Weasley is up and out of bed, dressed for her customary morning run. Tying the final knot on her beaten white trainers and grabbing her pumpkin-orange Weasley sweater, she heads down into the common room. The gold and red of the room glow in the early morning light, dust particles dancing through the empty space. With a small smile Ginny stops for a moment and takes in the peace, knowing that she will have none after this. With each second that takes her nearer to the match she knows she is doomed, her fear rising in tandem with the sun. She shakes herself from her thoughts and pulls her sweater over her head and makes her way outside to commence her morning laps around the black lake.
The morning seems to pass by her in a buzzing haze. She can scarcely remember her morning shower, or the donning of her uniform; even the feel of Luna's palm in her own failed to break through her mounting terror. Now, she finds herself striding out onto the field with the team, the red and gold of her cloak flapping behind her in the light breeze as she mounts her broom. Casually, she notes it a miracle that she was able to hear the sound of the whistle over the beating of her heart. It's sound screeches through the air, shattering everything as Ginny instinctually pushes harshly off the ground and soars into the air. As she moves up the wind takes the red of her ponytail and clouds it lightly around her. Her worries remain on the ground and she laughs giddily with the feeling of weightlessness that overcomes her as she shoots off after the quaffle.
She hears Lee announce point after point for Gryffindor. Each time he notes her name as the reason for the riotous cheers of the crowd, he does this quite often, a heady thrill shoots through her. Their win is secure.
Just as she executes a Porskoff Ploy, which had already left her off-balance with only her left hand lightly gripping her broom, something slams harshly into her entire right side.
Her left hand slips.
Everything slides to black. Where is the screaming coming from?
She thinks it might be her.
There is only excruciating pain. Her name whispered in a velvety voice that is achingly familiar, soothing her soul-deep. Then nothing.
Ginny shoots upward and regrets it immediately, pain lacing through her head and acutely down her left side. She forces her eyes open, blinking roughly into the palid darkness; metal beds draped in grey wool blankets are spaced evenly around the room, all unoccupied save hers and another across the way with green drapes pulled to obscure the occupant, she thinks it must be Katie. Offhandedly she notices the giant arching windows that line the room are speckled with rain, her gaze moves to her left where the white end table to her side is covered with wilting peonies of varying colours and chocolate frogs. Her favourites. She dully ponders releasing the chocolate frogs just to watch them hop away. She hates chocolate. As a child, whenever her parents could spare a few extra knuts for paltry things like sweets, her and Ron would get chocolate frogs. Ginny simply loved to watch them move. She would release them, laughing all the way, Ron would then catch them and eat them. At the thought of a copse of animated sweets leaping down the halls, chased in earnest by Mrs. Norris, a weak impression of a laugh rasps from her lips.
Ginny eases herself slowly back into the bed, letting her head loll to the right towards the window when she notices that one of her visitor chairs is occupied by Tom Riddle.
She looks out the window, hoping to see something through the dark depths. Some indication of what-
Wait.
Tom Riddle.
She wrenches her neck in her attempt to look at the chair. He looks just as she last saw him. As an angel, though now she knows that not to be true.
His cutting blue eyes meet her suddenly watery hazel.
She tries to form words. To say anything. He beats her to it.
"Hello, princess."