Sorry this took so long to get out! Had a bit of block but I've also been a bit busy with work; if only my pay reflected how apparently 'essential' I am. Any way, enjoy!
Chapter 3: I Got So Good At Quietly Crying
When faced with the spectre of a homicidal Dark Lord 9 out of 10 wizards and witches polled stated that they would run hastily in the opposite direction and take care to never be placed in such a situation in the future. Ginevra Molly Weasley realized, as she made eye contact with one such Dark Lord, that she would never be one of those 9. In fact, she realized as she ripped back the covers of her hospital bed and lunged toward the blue-eyed devil that occupied her visitor's chair, she fell well outside the spectrum of what was deemed normal. But what could she say? She had no tolerance for poxy shitehead's who liked to shatter little girl's hearts, Dark Lord-status be damned. Keeping this in mind- one might be able to understand that it only occured to Ginny mid-jump that Tom's spectre/internal delusion manifesting externally held no actual form and therefore her already fragile body was, once again, in for a world of pain. So moments later when Ginny collided with Lord Voldyshorts, knocking him out of the chair with a loud crash, no one was more surprised than her except for perhaps the fuckwit in question. But like a true Gryffindor, Ginny did not let her surprise get the best of her and began wailing on him without a single moment of hesitancy. Some hits made their mark, others didn't, but Ginny liked to think that it was the joyful ferver which counted. With each strike of her fist she could hear herself muttering some variation of "You bastard, how dare you?", though she paid her own words little mind, listening greedily for each pained grunt or sharp intake of breath which she collected as a boon.
She straddled him, hitting him and slapping and clawing and he did nothing, barely shielding himself with his forearms all the while saying nothing at all. Tears beat a path down her sallow skin, hanging from her chin until her violent motions had them leaving drops along Tom's white button-up and grey knit vest. Ginny took no notice of this, nor of the slowing or precision of her hits until the pain she had pushed behind her overtook her. She sat astride her former friend, clutching at his vest with sobs wracking her small frame. Tom, unsettled at such a sight, slowly raised himself from the ground as much as he could and hesitantly wrapped his arms around his friend. He carded his fingers through her hair, the way Ginny used to run her fingers through his hair on the rare occasion when he brought her into the diary. For a moment, a small sliver of a fraction of time, she let him hold her, breathing him in (a ghosting scent of chai, parchment, and leather) before violently pushing away from him with a harsh whisper of "No" that she continues to chant as she curls into a ball on the asperous floor, her legs too weak to stand.
Tom is caught frozen on the ground, his hand hovering hesitantly above Ginny's prone form. After a moment of utter stillness, with only her quiet murmurs in the way of noise he shakes himself and stands, smoothly withdrawing towards the wall in what has to be the most timid action he has ever acquiesced to.
As he stands backed against the wall his ever-active mind can't help but be vexed over several things like the location of the Matron and why he ever allowed himself to think for a single moment that he was capable of having and keeping a friend. No one would ever understand him and that was fine, he had simply thought, only for a moment mind you, that little Ginny had been different.
With a tired sigh, Tom rubs a hand across his face and glances quickly back over to Ginny who seems to have gained a wracking shiver during his moments of inaction. Only able to restrain himself for a moment longer Tom whispers a quiet, 'Fuck' and strides over towards Ginny scooping her up in a single motion. She whimpers and he huffs a dry laugh.
"You have to let me help you, princess." he murmurs as he lays her gently back down on the hospital bed, tucking the woolen blanket around her shivering form.
Ginny seems to recollect enough of herself to harshly whisper "Bite me." before slipping into unconsciousness.
A true grin breaks across his face, he never could resist her fire.
Ginny awakes to a haze of gold and yellow, long stalks of green grass tickling all along her body. She shoots up from the ground with a burst of giggles, her movements comparable to that of a roadrunner through molasses. Languidly turning her head back and forth she catches sight of her favourite climbing tree in the background and a towering, teetering structure that could only be the Burrow in the foreground. Feeling like she'd just downed an entire bottle of Tizer in one go, she spins through the auric haze, gleefully consuming the halcyonic atmosphere that a distant part of her seems to recognize is a vast departure from the world she had previously occupied.
With the sudden whim to head for the Burrow, Ginny seems to make it inside the cluttered kitchen with barely two steps through the spacious field. Sighting a bright green apple resting on the knotted wooden table she swipes it with a rapacious eye, accidentally displacing a booklet of some sort which plops idly to the floor. Taking a bite of the apple and smacking her lips against the tart taste Ginny kneels down, the worn wood rough against her knees, she lets the apple roll free from her palm in favour of picking up the tiny grey booklet. She flips it over taking in the caricature of a well-groomed, blonde haired, girl in a witch's hat batting her eyes beatifically. Ginny's eyes flit up to the title, 'How to turn your banshee of a daughter into the perfect House-Witch in 13 easy steps', her fingers slacken, the booklet fluttering to the floor and suddenly Ginny is no longer a laggardly fourteen year old in dungarees but an apprehensive eight year old in a bright pink dress with far too many bows.
She sits on her hands at the kitchen table with her legs swinging gently, "But mum, why can't I play Quidditch too?" Ginny whines with a small frown, the warmth she had formerly felt now leeching slowly from the room with each tick of the family clock.
Molly Weasley wipes her sudsy hands on her apron and turns towards her daughter with a look of pure exasperation, "Ginny, Quidditch is a game for boys. You are a young lady."
Ginny's legs stop swinging and she looks at her mum with all the temerity an affronted eight year old can muster, "The Holyhead Harpies is an entire team full of girls and when I'm big enough I'm gonna be one of them and I won't let you stop me!" she shouts.
"You will do no such thing, Ginevra! Those women are hardly anything to model yourself by and I won't have my only daughter taking up with the likes of them!" Molly states sternly with a voice of pure steel and her hands fastened to her hips, "Now," she picks up the instructional booklet and forces a pleasant demeanor, "where did we leave off?", she flicks through the pages.
Ginny takes her hands from underneath her and smooths out her hideous dress, some sniffles slip through her embittered countenance which her mother pointedly ignores.
"I think a nice little tea party is in order after your lessons, hmm?" Molly proclaims with a warm grin.
As Molly continues to prattle on about the minutiae of tea parties, Ginny swallows back her tears and with a tightening of her jaw she begins to nurture the fire that swells inside of her.
Very suddenly it is later that day, when she is meant to be hosting tea time in her patchwork atrocity she is instead sitting astride Fred's broom strapped into a pair of Ron's old jeans with a bit of rope, fifteen feet in the air, practicing hitting a quaffle with the end of her broom (The Weasley Wack). And if while she was practicing it just so happened that she was a little too close to the house and the quaffle simply happened to go through the sitting room window, well then one could hardly say Ginny had acted unprovoked.
Molly did not agree, and so it was as Ginny stood in front of her mother trying to affect something close to remorse while her mother berated her that Ginny finally snapped, "I don't see why you're so angry! You can fix the window with a wave of your wand!"
"That is not the point Ginevra Weasley! You cannot behave this way! You are meant to act like a lady not a- a- ruffian!" Molly shouts gesturing with wild gesticulations.
"Women of the Prewitt line have been raised this way dating back to the 1600's. It does not matter whether you bear the name or not! We are all that is left and it is our duty to uphold the traditions that matter before we have nothing left of them at all and it will be as if they were never here…" Molly's voice slowly tapers off as she wipes tears from her eyes.
Ginny moves towards her aggrieved mother and tries to comfort her with a hug which Molly gratefully accepts. As they break apart she pats Ginny warmly on the cheek and says, "Try not disappoint me in this as well, Ginny dear, hmm?"
Ginny freezes, tendrils of cold flowing through her as something inside of her crumples, her fire flickering to the point of burning out. Though it is the absolute last thing she wants to do, knowing even at her young age that any further entreaties will simply mark her as a further mistake she flatly says, "Yes, mum." and as her short arms fall away from around her mother they seem to grow longer, landing soundly palm down against the counter of the Burrow's kitchen. In the reflection of the window above the sink Ginny is plainly able to see that she is no longer her wily eight year old self but a temperate eleven. Though the scene may have changed the yellow of her first awakening in this world is long gone, the blue of the last scene having diluted into a sable grey.
The door to her left swings open and her father strides in with a cheery call of "Morning all!" and Percy hot on his heels with queries about the goings on at the Ministry. Everyone is all liveliness and gaiety save Ginny, even Harry who has clearly been through something with his muggle relatives, has a smile. They all notice that she is lacking. Her father tries to hide it with affable smiles that are dashed baldly against the wall with each shake of Percy's head and her mother's small frowns that flit to and fro along her face; Ron shrugs it off as a personality defect and the twins constantly try to spur her into amusement, a kindness which she rewards with a polite smile and ladylike laugh. As she ambles from the room Ginny muses that she is living her life as an anachronism, lonely in a house fit to bursting with people, and while she knows her family loves her she often feels more like a project than a person.
Ginny steps from the threshold of the kitchen and is suddenly outside once more, in a world resplendently drenched with light. A grin springs unbidden to her face and she twirls around, her white sundress flaring up around her as she falls laughing into the arms of the briery grass.
The loud thump of a book falling next to her marks an abrupt change in her demeanor because Ginny is suddenly very aware of where she is and what this is. All hazy sense of befuddlement leaving her for the weight of keen understanding.
The book isn't a book, it's a diary.
The memories weren't simply memories but her path to Tom.
In her first memory of him, he is drenched in the golden brilliance of light and sunshine. When he was just a bedraggled little diary stamped with the initials T.M.R and she a bedraggled little girl perched in the tallest tree of her family's backyard at the frayed ends of summer. He was someone in a great field of noone. She was a reluctant lady that ached for every scrap of rebellion, anything to rekindle the fire, and Tom never said no.
Through this series of relizations, Ginny has absentmindedly taken ahold of her little black book, clutching it to her chest. She knows how this memory ends.
Flipping onto her stomach, she wistfully runs her fingers along the smooth leather, then opening the diary and pulling a plen she had swiped from her father's shed out from the self-constructed pocket of her dress, she twists off the capature and writes along the top of the yellowing blank page,
Dear Diary,
My name is Ginevra Weasley.
The freshly inked letters are absorbed by the page and for a singular moment there is nothing, and then:
Hello Ginevra, my name is Tom Riddle.
Ginny's eyes open to the ceiling of Hogwarts Hospital Wing.
Ginny delicately pushes herself up from her hospital bed refusing for a moment to turn her head. She looks down at her freckled wrist and pulls her grime covered orange scrunchy (most likely still on her person thanks to Luna and her astute eye) she takes up her red hair and throws it into a messy bun atop her head. She pauses for a breath then takes a cursory look around the room. Much to her relief the examination turns up an absolute void of fiendish turncoats though she does happen to catch the eye of Madame Pomfrey who immediately quits her office with a delighted chortle.
"Miss Weasley! It is so good to see you finally awake!" with a flick of her wand Madame Pomfrey produces a glowing list of Ginny's vitals that she quickly begins to peruse with a light smile.
Ginny however does not share the Matron's goodcheer, "'Finally'? How long was I asleep?!"
"Oh, three days I should say. Today is Tuesday the 7th of November and just before you woke the lunch bell rang which should mean-" Madame Pomfrey is saved from finishing her sentence when the door to the Hospital Wing is swung open and they both turn their heads to see Luna and Hermione entering the ward, who upon noticing her awakened state, rush toward her bedside.
As they make it to her bedside, Hermione turns towards Madame Pomfrey and asks in a voice far too serious to match that of a fifteen year old schoolgirl, unless of course it was emanating from the girl in question, who would seem quite off-form without such a tone, "The results of the scan have come back clear?"
Madame Pomfrey raises an eyebrow and gives Hermione an amused smile, "Yes Miss Granger, Miss Weasley will make a full recovery." she turns to Ginny, "I will leave you in the capable hands of Healer Granger and Miss Lovegood. Make sure they don't stay too long and, barring relapse, we shall see about releasing you tomorrow morning." The girls chorus their thanks and she turns and heads back to her office, lightly shutting the door.
"Healer Granger? I thought I'd only been out three days? Or have you gotten another time turner?" Ginny says with a laugh.
Hermione blushes and stammers, "We were all really scared when you didn't wake up right away so, naturally, I did some research on healing and may have accidentally questioned Madam Pomfrey's standard of care."
"Oh, 'mione." Ginny says with a fond smile and shake of her head.
"As penance I am to help her in the Hospital Wing after classes three times a week, which truly isn't even a hardship," Hermione's face lights up, gears visibly turning in her head as she looks off into the distance, "I mean can imagine all of the information and practical skills I'm going to acquire? I'll be set if I decide to do a Healing apprenticeship after graduation. And it's incredibly beneficial and practical knowledge to have for the war effort, and-"
"And it will really allow you to improve your bedside manner and social skills." Luna says serenely.
Just as Hermione looks like she is about to mount a vigorous defense of her social capabilities, Ginny laughs in a way that seems to brighten the watery sunshine already streaming through the windows and states with profound seriousness, "I really really missed you guys."
Hermione emits a small whimper before dropping her school bag and throwing her arms around Ginny. Luna squeals "Group Hug!" throwing half her body onto the bed in order to securely affix herself to the two girls.
They stay like this for a few moments before Ginny mumbles from under the both of them, "I love you lot and everything but it has just occurred to me that aside from the whole 'falling from my broom thing', I don't really know much about what happened..."
Hermione jerks back suddenly inducing Luna to affably reposition herself curled in next to Ginny against the top of the metal bed-frame.
"You mean no one told you?!" she exclaims with shock.
Ginny looks at Hermione dumbfounded and raises her hand in a mocking wave, "Hello, newly risen?"
"Haha," Hermione says with little humour, "I thought Madam Pomfrey would have said but in any case we can inform just as aptly." she repositions herself so that she is sitting on the bed in front of Ginny's criss-crossed legs.
They all settle in for what any bystander would recognize as a group of life-long friends meeting up for a good natter, "It was Draco Malfoy." Hermione states, "He was trying to avoid a bludger and didn't see you in time. It was horrible. Professor Snape cast the slowing charm just in time. Paired with my cushioning charm, you simply rebounded from the ground with barely a concussion and some bruising to show for it."
"The broom survived as well." adds Luna, idly twirling her hair around her fingers.
"That's why it was so disconcerting when you didn't wake up right away. There was no magical or medical reason we could ascertain that prohibited your immediate recovery." continues Hermione.
Ginny considers mentioning her recent visitation with 'ghosts of Voldemort's past' for a trice, as she looks at the open and warm faces of her two closest friends but the resounding thought of 'wacky weasel' pushes the words back down her throat. She won't be that girl again. She has worked too hard for far too long, and anyway it was just a feverish delusion. No need to get worked up about that.
"Well, I'm awake now and three days the poorer. What's the hot goss?" Ginny asks, leisurely pulling a chocolate frog from the end table and releasing it from its encasement. It takes off into the air with one giant spring and a disapproving look from Hermione, only to be caught by Luna whose arms shoot out like a real frog's tongue would to catch a fly. Luna begins to lick it like a lollipop, chocolate coating her fingers, whilst Hermione and Ginny chat about schoolwork.
"You mustn't forget that Harry and Draco very nearly got into fisticuffs after the match." Luna says in between licks. Hermione shoots her a reproachful look.
"What!? Honestly 'mione, I'm going on about the difference between Futhark and Elder Futhark while you casually sit there with the knowledge of interhouse warfare that occurred over my immobile corpse!" Ginny says with feigned outrage.
"Oh, honestly, they never actually hit each other. Neither of them have any fighting skills; it was more like Harry tackled Malfoy and they had a slap fight." Hermione deadpans, "And I was going to let Harry tell you this, Luna, but Harry's been banned from the Quidditch team for the duration of the year by Umbridge for 'conduct unbecoming'."
"And let me guess, Malfoy received copious amounts of attention from his sycophants and a courtesy trip to the Hospital Wing?" Ginny queries sardonically.
"Well spotted." confirms Hermione.
"Harry did attack Draco without any verifiable proof, though." Luna adds, not looking at either girl. She appears instead, to be focused on levitating a dust bunny with her wand.
There is a moment of silence as both girls study their usually aloof friend, then they glance at one another before Hermione finally says, "Harry does seem to have an unusual fascination with Malfoy. I mean yes, he is accountable for a fair few transgressions but he is not always responsible for all the bad things." Hermione rubs the back of her neck, "Especially, for the whole 'knocking Ginny off her broom thing', I mean I saw his face afterwards. He was absolutely dismayed, in fact I believe most of the peonies are from him."
"I do love peonies." Ginny states with a vigorous nod of her head, "I'll have to thank him."
"You might approach him in the Great Hall tomorrow at breakfast." Luna ventures. Ginny throws her a confused look which Hermione notices and says, "House tensions are at an all time high. Not only was Gryffindor's new star player hobbled by the Prince of Slytherin but said Prince was a contributory factor in the suspension of the 'best seeker in a decade'. No one's lashed out yet but if you had been unconscious any longer I have no doubt Umbridege's detentions would have increased in occupancy tenfold."
The bell clangs, signalling the end of lunch.
"Oh, bugger. I'm going to be late for Care…" Hermione mutters as she jumps off the bed with a quick glance at her thin wristwatch, grabbing her bag and pulling out her wand she points it at Ginny and mutters a spell.
"Oi!" Ginny exclaims.
"Sorry," Hermione mutters halfheartedly, "just wanted to run a quick diagnostic spell before I left…" she lightly flicks her wand and looks up with a smile, "Just as I thought, you are free and clear!" she leans forward and gives Ginny a quick squeeze and then makes her way hurriedly through the double doors.
Luna slides off the bed but Ginny lightly grabs her wrist before she can make it too far away, she looks back at Ginny.
"Draco? Do you want to talk or…" asks Ginny, searching the dreamy gaze of her best friend.
Luna smiles, turning her wrist, she grabs hold of Ginny's hand, both leaning forward and gently tugging Ginny until they meet with a firm hug in the middle.
"The flupperwhy's really like you." she whispers with tears lacing her voice.
Ginny tightens her hold, "I'm really lucky to have them then, yeah?" tears fill her voice as well, "I think the necklace helps too though, elsewise they'd never see me." Ginny says, referring to the necklace Luna made for her when they first became friends. Evidently made from the woven hair of a demiguise with a golden oval-shaped locket at its center that has been carved with all manner of runes, it contains the small pastel wings of fallen flupperwhys. Though it is occasionally itchy, Ginny only ever removes it for bathing.
Luna pulls back from Ginny, "You never needed the necklace," she stands and grabs her pastel green bag that is covered with a variety of dark purple exterior pockets, "they are attracted to those 'pure of heart and intention'." with a jolly wave in farewell and a gentle flick of her wand, Luna makes her way through the Hospital Wing's doors, a trail of books and rolls of parchments floating from her rucksack and towards Ginny. They land with various thumps, in neat piles around her on the bed.
Ginny grins broadly and with a light shake of her head organizes the books and rolls of parchment around her, picking up a quill and grabbing a jar of ink with the intention of digging into her homework but-
Suddenly her focus narrows, the quill flutters numbly from one hand, the jar of ink dropping from the other and rolling from the bed to shatter to the floor in a spreading well of black that Ginny neither sees nor hears. The sharp earthy smell of the parchment seems to overwhelm the spacious room, interlaced with the lingering spicy scent of chai and suddenly Ginny can't breathe-
Her hand flies to her chest, her palm running the line of her sternum as she tries to pull in measured breaths. She feels knit wool rub along her freckled arm-
The foreign silk of parseltongue whispers harshly through the suddenly darkening room-
Ginny's head snaps up, her eyes connecting with a pair of searingly familiar crystal blue eyes mere inches from her face. Tom Marvolo Fucking Riddle tilts his head to the side, studying her like any psychopath would their prey.
The door to Madam Pomfrey's office crashes open and everything seems to snap back like a rubber band, leaving Ginny confused and blinking dazedly through the golden sunlight. Tom is once again absent, if he was ever here at all…
"Miss Weasley, are you quite alright?" asks Madam Pomfrey, resting a hand on the trembling girl's shoulder.
Ginny looks up at her as if she is seeing her for the first time, "I thought...I must have fallen asleep sitting up, silly me!" she says with a chuckle that falls flat.
"Quite. It would seem you dropped your ink." the Matron says, stepping back from the spill. She repairs the glass tumbler and replaces its contents with a few waves of her wand.
"Thank you Madame Pomfrey." Ginny says sheepishly, taking up the repaired ink and setting it gently on the end table.
"Quite alright, dear. What do you say to a nap? Hmm? I shall wake you up for dinner and you can complete your coursework after that if you feel up to it?" she asks kindly.
Ginny aquieses quickly and helps Madam Pomfrey shift the books and parchment to the side table. She yanks her hair from its scruchy, replacing it on her wrist and running her hands through the tangled snarls of red and reclines back into the bed.
"Do you need a dreamless sleep potion, dear, or will you be alright?" Madam Pomfrey asks, fussing with the blankets of Ginny's bed. Ginny idly wonders if she will kiss her on the forehead before she wishes her sweet dreams.
"I'll be fine Madame Pomfrey, thank you." she says with a polite smile.
The frown on the Matron's face twitches as she sets the blue bottled potion on top of a book on the side table, "I'll just leave it for you here, in case you change your mind." she heads back into her office with a worried backward glance.
Ginny flips over so that she is facing the doors, pushing her hair roughly behind her ear, she pulls the coarse blanket up to her chin. Her eyes remain wide open, a singular mantra running through her mind, falling from her lips in a quiet murmur, "He's not back, you're fine. He's not back, you're. He's not back, you're fine."
A/N:
My portrayal of Mrs. Weasley may seem a bit harsh than the one we are used to from the books and especially from the film but I want to emphasize that Mrs. Weasley loves her daughter, she was simply expecting a daughter not another son. Ginny is far more masculine than Molly would like, she waited so long for a daughter and we all know how controlling Molly can be when things don't fit to plan. Anyway I want to reassure you that this is not a Weasley!bashing fic in any way but I need there to be realistic reasons for Ginny's distance from her family. It is canon that Ginny secretly practiced Quidditch, and none of her brothers realized that she was possessed/that something was up, so that certainly lends to a disconnection from her family and a lack of understanding. I will promise though that Ginny and Molly will eventually come to some sort of understanding that allows them to positively move forward in their relationship.