Janine
By Natasha Shaitanova
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
A/N: Not as quick of an update as I promised…Well, reviews are a motivating factor and since they haven't been the most encouraging…Ah whatever.
Slytherins kick ASS: No prob dude. It's not an easy topic ;)
es wird ihr alles zuviel
weil er es immer wieder macht
und genau wie jede nacht, kommt er auch in dieser nacht
du musst mir geben, was mir mama nicht mehr geben kann
it is too much for her
because he always makes it
just like every night, he is in the night too
"you have to give me what your mama no longer can"
"Ginny, go on upstairs, it's past your bedtime!" still laughing at someone's passing joke, Molly pushed her daughter toward the stairs before rejoining the festivities.
"But, Mommy! I want to stay and—" Ginny tugged at her mother's arm, eager to remain in the middle of the party. She tried to cover an involuntary yawn with her other hand.
"You won't be missing much, dear, just boring adult talk," Molly again shooed her out of the living room, this time checking that Ginny went to her room as instructed.
Ginny hummed to herself as she slowly climbed up the stairs, stumbling and hanging on the rails to drag out the process. With a final twirl on the second landing, she tumbled backwards into her room, singing softly. She quickly changed into her old pink pajamas and lay on top of the covers, altogether too awake.
Occasional bursts of laughter floated up from downstairs, accompanied by the telltale pop of a bottle being opened. It was her aunt's birthday and naturally the entire Weasley clan arrived to celebrate. Ginny had been on her feet since noon, caught up in the excitement, rushing between the various guests and trying to catch snippets of conversation. She still felt the pleasant buzz vibrating in her chest, but exhaustion was beginning to set in.
She couldn't tell how long she had lain awake, studying the wallpaper on the ceiling, before the sound of footsteps separated from the muted hubbub below. Deciding it was her mother coming to check that she was asleep, Ginny quickly rolled under the covers and squeezed her eyes shut.
As expected, her door creaked open moments later and Ginny could feel the mattress dip down next to her thighs as the visitor sat down. She lay still as her covers were adjusted around her chin, but she couldn't help but tense when a hand slipped into her hair, lingering on the nape of her neck.
Ginny continued to feint sleep as Arthur shifted above her, leaning on his elbow to bend down and breathe lightly against her cheek. She could smell hard alcohol and it made her stomach turn. It was too strong.
Arthur must have seen her nose wrinkle because he laughed lightly and traced a finger over her jaw line. "Wake up for me, baby."
Ginny knew by then how the game went and didn't dare disobey. She looked up at her father, somewhat startled to find him so close. "I'm awake, Daddy."
"Good, good…" Arthur leaned down into a kiss, brushing aside the covers at the same time. His movements were sloppy and sluggish as he fought inebriation.
Ginny parted her lips immediately, knowing that her father liked it. She winced around the kiss as the bitter taste of alcohol flooded her senses, but forced herself not to turn away. In her distraction, she did not notice Arthur tugging at her pajamas.
"So sweet, so sweet…" he mumbled incoherently, placing wet, sloppy kisses over her cheeks and jaw. Making quick work of the pajamas, he moved his attentions lower.
Ginny buried her face sideways into the pillow, letting silent tears stain the fabric. The game had not gone this far before and she began trembling in fear as he repeatedly stroked her inner thighs, forcing them apart.
"Daddy…"
"That's right, I'm your daddy…" Arthur found himself quickly bored with the undeveloped chest and moved back to Ginny's lips. "You're all mine…"
The following moments were a blur of random details mixed in a whirlwind of pain and Ginny bit through her lip in an attempt to stay silent. The party downstairs seemed like a remote world to her; a remote world who could never know their secret.
The sound of a zipper coming undone was her only warning before her entire fragile body was set on fire. The fire burned deep inside and Ginny sobbed desperately as it showed no signs of easing. She could hear heavy panting and did not know if it was her or her father. The pain was only mounting and finally her frame simply could not take the intrusion.
Ginny fainted into blessed, black oblivion, temporarily saved from the terror wreaking her bedroom. Arthur continued in his ecstasy as Ginny's loss of consciousness went unnoticed. He hung over bed for a few moments once sated, struggling to catch his breath.
At the sight of Ginny's comatose body, he was seized with a rage, stumbling backwards and away from the bloodied bed. He yanked the covers over her viciously before brutally grasping his own hair. Arthur grappled mentally against the drunken haze, but only ended up whinnying piteously as chunks of red and gray hair tangled in his fingers.
The scene was oddly interrupted by a clinking of glasses and a resounding cheer from the living room. The celebration carried on.
…She was only eight then. Eight is so far, far too young to lose one's virginity that these words only make it sound more unbelievable. She told me she could hardly walk for a week afterward and so pretended to have caught a sickness from some guest at the party, giving her an excuse to stay in bed. I cannot imagine how she managed to fool Molly…both about the sickness and the bloodied sheets. Unlikely luck?
Ginny would not tell me about another specific incident from around that time, but she led me to understand that Arthur became only more…partial to her as she recovered quickly. Perhaps it's a logical psychological digression and perhaps it's simply sick, but Ginny began to draw an odd sense of satisfaction from the encounters. She told me that even as it hurt like death itself, she derived a certain sense of empowerment.
"He loved me," she said. "He loved me like he loved no one else, not even Mommy. It made me feel stronger…made me feel wanted."
I told her it wasn't love but I'm sure she'd deny it to this day. Yes, the man had completely fucked with her sense of love and there is no nicer way for me to say it. He had skewed her perception of love, of family…God, of any sort of relationship there can be!
I asked her once how someone who loves you could hurt you like that. She said it didn't matter, "he just has a different way of showing it." That was when I realized that I was months, no years, too late.
The Hogwarts Express issued yet another warning bell and the steam from its engine clouded the station. Students and relatives of all ages rushed to and fro in their efforts to get one final goodbye in before the train set off.
The Weasleys stood crowded in one of the corners, with Molly bustling in the center. The twins had already managed to slip out of her grip and Harry and Ron had gotten lost in the excitement, but she retained a firm grip on Percy and Ginny. Finally, the elder sibling complained of loss of stature in front of his peers and trotted off to climb onto the train.
Molly wrapped Ginny in yet another embrace before taking her gently by the shoulders. "You'll be careful won't you? Not like your brothers, dear…"
"I've never been like them," Ginny huffed and looked at her shoes rather than face her mother. The subject carried too many fine linings and unsaid secrets.
"You'll be just fine, dear. Don't you worry," Molly smiled softly at her only daughter before giving her a quick kiss, as she used to when Ginny was younger.
This time, however, Molly pulled back shocked as she felt Ginny's lips part upon contact. Further baffled as Ginny casually waved goodbye and rushed to the train, Molly waved back distractedly, trying to wrap her mind around what had happened.
"She must have slipped, that's all," she gathered her giant purse and moved through the jostling crowd toward the exit. "Or someone bumped into her. Nothing more…"
Molly shook her head one final time and tried to forget the incident. Certainly, it was nothing…
Meanwhile, Ginny sat alone in one of the compartments toward the rear of the train, fidgeting with her sweater sleeve. She recalled her mother's startled expression when she left and only now did it hit her that the kiss had been the reason.
"Stupid, stupid," she chanted in her mind. "You know it's different with daddy, he's always said so…"
Her lips had parted automatically, a response she had gotten used to from the only other kisses she had received in the past few years. Ginny squirmed as she thought about how quickly her mother had pulled away, her expression distant with worry. No one was supposed to know. No one could know.
A/N: This is kinda short…well, I'll be sure to make up for it as the story evolves and the scenarios become more complex ;))
Please drop by a review if you're not too squeamish ;))
Shaity out.