Character: Ginny Weasley
Prompt: Dark
There's a deep, cold sort of darkness in Ginny that she doesn't often own up to. She smiles and laughs and plays Quidditch, and sure, she likes those things. But there's a part of her, a part that she can't always entirely ignore, that feels as though it's been touched by something nasty, something vile and raw around the edges and evil.
She watches Harry sometimes, wonders what it is that makes him tick. He's been through so much, dragged himself through muck and mire, been pulled, kicking and screaming, through the fiery bowels of Hell, but somehow…somehow it doesn't seem as though any of it quite touches him. Even after all the things he's seen in his life, he has a certain, eternal innocence, a kind of unwavering satisfaction with everything around him, like he's completely comfortable in his own skin. No matter what happens to him, he finds a way to move forward, to move on. She knows she shouldn't, but she often wonders what it would take to extinguish the dancing light behind his eyes. Maybe the growing darkness of the world will do it, she thinks, maybe the lingering threat of Voldemort or the latest rumours being printed about him in the papers, the entire world calling him mad. Or maybe none of it will. She can't be certain.
But what Ginny does know, even at fifteen, is that she's not cut out for goodness. Not entirely, anyway. Her school-girl crush on the Boy Who Lived faded long ago, replaced by more realistic, more mature expectations for herself. She knows now, after all this time, that Harry is not a legend. He isn't a god or an all-powerful hero or a character in a bedtime story. He's a real person, and he's one of her best friends, but maybe he's just a bit too golden and shining for her.
She can tell that if they got together now, it would make sense; it would probably even be expected. They'd live a happy life together, maybe have a few kids, grow old by each other's sides. She can picture it in her mind as though she were watching the whole thing as a slideshow of photographs. When Harry finishes the fight with Voldemort, when they settle down together, it'll be easy, close to perfect, simple. Finally, something effortless. People will smile at their wedding; her mum will beam when she's presented with grandchildren. And the thing is, Ginny knows that she could love him.
But whenever she allows her mind to drift in this direction, there's something nagging at her, something whispering, nasty, into her ear, telling her that Harry doesn't deserve that. That he wouldn't have any idea what he was getting himself into. Maybe that's what it would take to put out his fire; if she gets too close, she might taint him, soil the easy grace with which he moves through life. Ginny's always been bad at resisting temptation, though; she knows that if he asked her, she would say yes. She would jump into his arms and never look back, no questions asked. Consequences be damned.
She doesn't want to ruin him, though. She wants to self-destruct, to tear at her insides, to scream at the tops of her lungs that she's more than just another Weasley. She wants people to recognise that she's been through horrible things as well, wants them to remember that she spent a year as Voldemort's rag doll. She wants to do something horrible, despicable, unforgivable. She wants to stand out. But even through all that, she doesn't want to destroy Harry Potter.
So she distances herself from him, consciously tries to make herself scarce. She clings close to Dean when they arrive back at school, tries hard not to meet Harry's eye whenever they're forced to speak one on one. She hates doing this to him, pushing him away, but she can't help it. Despite the rather horrible thoughts that Ginny has sometimes, she honestly doesn't want to see him hurt.