CW; mentions of rape
Chapter 16; Memories
Ginny Weasley never actually told anyone the actual reason behind her quitting quidditch. But then again, no one ever really asked.
She'd told them all that The Daily Prophet gave her a job offer she just couldn't deny. That she wanted to try something else for a while.
The Daily Prophet had indeed offered her a job, one she'd actually grown to like quite a lot as time passed, but the rest was all lies.
To be a famous quidditch player had been her one and only dream since the first time she ever sat on a broomstick. Flying up there, accelerating and diving and veering, being one with the broom, focusing all of her conscience on the game – it had got to be the greatest feeling ever known to mankind. She had loved it. She had loved it so much she sometimes sobbed a little in the shower after a game. Not happy tears because they'd won or tears of grief because they'd lost, simply tears that made their way down her flushed cheeks due to the game being over when her only wish was to make it last forever.
Then came a day, or perhaps evening was a better word, that changed it all and turned her life around in a way she'd never thought possible.
~a year ago~
Even though it was December, the temperature icy cold and the amount of rain excessive, quidditch practices still happened three times a week without fault. Magic had its undeniable perks after all, and the air of the Holyhead Harpies arena simply changed temperature after what its players needed. The 14th of December may have brought a hurricane gruesome enough to keep the majority of London's population indoors, but the fourteen brave-hearted players and reserve players of Britain's most successful Women's Quidditch Team had all conscientiously dragged their asses to the arena in Guildford, knowing that the moment practice begun, they would no longer be freezing. They were onto their last week of practice before their Christmas break begun, preparing themselves for one last match against the Appleby Arrows this Sunday. The atmosphere of the changing room was cheerful with the young women laughing and talking about how they would spend the oncoming holidays, and the cheerfulness nearly lasted throughout the whole two hours the Holyhead Harpies practiced every Friday evening. It wasn't until the last five minutes, when team captain Mathilda Bates made all the girls do twenty burpees 'just because', that part of it melted away.
Ginny Weasley was happy when she finished practice the 14th of December. She was exhausted and dripping with sweat and every single muscle in her body seemed to ache, but it was a pleasant sort of exhaustion. She laughed and gossiped with her team-mates in the showers, continuing to discuss the best methods to slaughter Appleby Arrows in two days' time. When her stomach rumbled, she remembered the lovely fact that Harry was at home cooking a Friday dinner for them both, and it made her hurry through the process of getting dressed, brushing her hair, and putting on an easy makeup – it was Friday after all, wasn't it?
You weren't able to apparate directly from any English quidditch arena, due to there being some incidents of cheating throughout the history of quidditch. It tends to interrupt the game when one of the seekers apparates away due to nerves, and therefore it had been forbidden a few years ago. Since Apparition Prohibition spells tend to be pretty unreliable in terms of where they begin and end, Ginny always had to walk for a bit before she was able to apparate safely. Down the hill, into the woods, and when she'd walked about three fourths of the woods, she'd be able to apparate. It wasn't a very long walk, and she was usually accompanied by some of her team-mates. She'd walked the distance countless times before, never stumbling into any trouble, never until this day.
Because the 14th of December was the day Ginny Weasley met her rapist.
~end of flashback~
Afterwards, she could remember every single detail about his abhorrent breath and how she was completely unable to move, the offensive comments he'd whispered into her ear and how ugly his beard-growth was, but she could not for a second remember how it all had happened. She couldn't for a second recall how it began, or how it finally ended. She was clueless about how long it had lasted, she only knew that it felt like the longest time in the world.
If there's one thing about a trauma that is and will always be for sure, it is that we all deal with it very differently. As Ginny Weasley staggered away on unsteady legs from behind the arena, she knew that her life had been ruined forever, turned around and shattered into a million shards, and she knew that she could never again set her foot in this neighbourhood. Returning to this place would allow her to remember, and her only goal was to forget.
So Ginny Weasley went home that night, put on her most trustworthy fake smile, and played a terrific game of pretending that everything was fine and dandy. The moment Harry left for Auror Training the next morning, she locked herself into the bathroom. She spent hours crying and screaming and throwing things, crying until she was sure she would faint and screaming until her voice was so hoarse she no longer recognized it. Then she swore to herself to never cry about it again. And the easiest method to be able to do that was to forget.
It was a coward's way out, so terribly unlike her, and yet it became the one she chose. The alternative was worse. If she started telling people, her whole world would shatter all over again.
First of all, she knew it would destroy Harry. He would find a way to blame himself, for not being there to pick her up, for all the things he thought he could've changed. He would look at her like she was something fragile, breakable, like she would pulverize at the bare touch.
Her brothers would search through the whole of Great Britain to find her abuser and beat him up. Her friends would always look at her differently. If she started telling people, the press would know about it in the blink of an eye, and no one would ever look at her the same way. Sexual abuse was yet another example of the Wizarding Community's fear of change – they've never discussed it before, so why start now? Much easier to create a taboo and refuse to talk about it.
Ginny had never used memory-altering magic before, but it turned out to be quite simple. She just wanted to forget. And yet, for some unexplainable reason she could no longer remember, she saved it as a reminder to herself.
What they don't tell you about altering your memories is that part of the memories always stay, no matter what you do. You don't forget you have it.
But it'd still been one whirlwind of a year without fully remembering, one year of blissful ignorance.
But it had also been one year of painful throwbacks and déja vu-s every now and then, and most of all it'd been one year of letting it control her. She'd quit her professional quidditch career in fear of remembering, almost destroyed her sex life in fear of remembering.
She never truly forgot, but she could avoid remembering too much.
Her new apartment lacked a window seat, but the living room windowsills were wide enough for it not to matter. The view from the fourth floor would probably be marvellous during spring and summer, but in the middle of December, it wasn't much to brag about. She saw only the skeleton of a bare sycamore tree outside, except the lights from other apartment buildings further away. The ground was a dark blur of wet leaves and worn out grass, almost depressing to look at. Snow had arrived and then left again, leaving people clueless about when and if it would return.
No, the view outside didn't cheer her up much, but the one of her apartment did. It wasn't very tidy, with unpacked boxes and random furniture still making sure their floor area was limited, but it was finally starting to feel like home. Draco's belongings were spread out across the living room, shirts and books and sketchpads she was dying to take a look at. Her own quidditch magazines, clothes and various papers weren't too neatly organized either, but she didn't see it as a problem. The mess reminded her that it all was for real, that they were living here, that it wasn't just something she'd dreamed. The door to their bedroom stood open, and if she stayed quiet she could hear Draco breathing. He was sleeping soundly in the bed they shared, and she wanted nothing but to do the same. She just wasn't finished thinking yet.
Even without fully remembering, she'd let it control her for one year. One year was enough. Seeing that memory a second time was enough. She had to remember. A quote she'd once read in a muggle magazine popped into her head – You can't change the past, but you can control your future.
She wanted to play quidditch again. She had to play quidditch again.
And perhaps, she realised as she weighed the crystal bottle containing the light blue slimy mass of a memory, perhaps she would have to talk to someone. Perhaps she needed some assistance in her way to moving on.
The Holyhead Harpies arena looked exactly the way she remembered it, as if no time at all had passed since she'd left the building that Friday night a year ago. As she manoeuvred the office part of the building, Ginny found that she still knew her way to the team captain's office perfectly well. She was lucky, too. The door to Mathilda Bates' neat office stood open, and Mathilda looked up from her desk before Ginny even had time to say Hi.
"Ginny! What are you doing here? Please, come in, I've missed you!" Mathilda's eyes, two azure pearls of pure cheerfulness, lit up as she gestured to the plastic chair across from her desk. Ginny couldn't help but smile as she slid down into the chair, feeling like home.
"I'd like to try out for the position as Chaser."
"Oh, forget it." Mathilda laughed. "Congratulations. It's yours. We've been waiting for you for almost a year."
"I'll explain it to you later."
"Oh, forget it." The captain shook her head. "Seriously, Ginny. We've all missed you so badly I'm not even asking for an explanation anymore, as long as you promise you're back."
"I promise, coach."
Only two days later, as Ginny Weasley steered her broomstick upwards only to make a sharp dive and snatch the quaffle from one of her opponents, moving on to score a perfect goal through the middle hoop, when she heard the dedicated cheers of the audience, she knew that she'd made the right choice. This was her destiny, this was what she was born to do, and she was finally in her right place again.
"Wow", Draco said as Ginny joined him after the game. "You are indeed an amazingly talented quidditch player. You did great."
"You're just saying that because it's part of your job description as my boyfriend." She pinched his arm playfully.
"And you're only saying that because you're so terrible at giving out compliments yourself."
"I'm not!"
"Then stop contradicting me!" He chuckled.
"Okay. Really – was I any good? I felt rusty, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to be sore in every single muscle I own tomorrow."
"Ginny, please believe me when I say that you were brilliant. For moments at a time, I almost forgot I was watching my girlfriend and just saw the most skilled chaser I've seen for eternities play the best quidditch game I've seen in ages."
"Thank you", she whispered, too modest to talk louder. "It felt really good."
"I bet." Draco smiled, and even though it was dark in the woods they were walking through, she was very well able to make out the contours of her favourite smile in the world. "Why did you ever stop? You seem so comfortable at the quidditch pitch, it's hard to imagine you doing anything else."
"I'll tell you someday."