Her New Patronus

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It was selfish of him, and no matter what anyone else said, Ginny would stick firmly to that opinion.

How long had she longed for him, his attention, his fingers caressing her hair gently?

She kicked off her golden pumps, which she considered hideous, and she couldn't help but smirk for she remembered how Fleur adored the robes and accessories she had chosen for her bridesmaids. The shoes landed in the creek, causing silver droplets of water to jump, and giving Ginny's feet the relief that they had been whining for.

The moon was but a yellow speck in the amethyst sky, but still its light was strong enough to cause golden lines to careen through the creek's ripples smoothly. As Ginny waded her feet slightly, she could feel the heels of one of the shoes she had just dunked into the water. Not being able to see the shoe underwater at night, she randomly pushed it away using her bare foot.

Thinking of the shoe (and thus thinking of the matching robe), she wondered if she would ever have a bridesmaid, ever have a wedding. And if she ever did, to whom would it be to?

How dare he?

She looked over her shoulder and could barely see the silhouette of The Burrow reaching over the hills. She looked back to her feet and let her hand go free of her robe's hem that she had bundled up to prevent them from becoming wet.

Did anyone even realize that she had been gone since the sun started to set? She wouldn't blame them if they didn't: she expected things to be rather chaotic right after the reception ceremony, which should've ended approximately half an hour ago.

Still

, Ginny couldn't help but think, despite how busy everybody should be, shouldn't they realize that the youngest Weasley has been gone for quite a while, especially in times like these?

She wondered if he noticed her absence.

Did he notice the way she shunned herself away from everybody else lately?

Did he notice the way she wouldn't play Quidditch anymore?

Did he notice the way her red hair had been swirled up into a beautiful bun?

Did he notice the way she wouldn't dance?

Did he notice that they were the only two not dancing?

She had always considered herself like a flower that was always so deeply rooted to its spot, or at least she had been ever since she first saw him. People tried to pluck her, as gently as they could even, but nevertheless her roots never budged, despite efforts from her part to move. But when he came, when he noticed her petals crying out for bona fide drops of love, she was able to be plucked. And even more so, she embraced the love he gave her and it let her spread her petals some more. She made it a point to cherish every second she spent liberated from the dirt, and in retrospection, she's glad she did.

What he gave to her, it seemed to last for seconds. He whispered to her that it was for her own good. She was expecting it. And then, it one swift, pitiful movement, he threw her away like she was a dirty weed.

Did he care that he left her in the mocking glare of the sun? Did he care that she felt as if the nourishment he gave her was all burned away?

How could it have been for her own good?

It wasn't.

It was done for him, for his own good.

It was selfish of him.

He did it because he didn't want to carry the blame if somebody else close to him was taken. To avoid pain that he figured he would eventually feel, he magnified that supposed pain and pushed it all onto her.

She felt something on the top of her foot, and she knew it wasn't water from the creek because that water was cold.

Was it midnight yet? How many more moments was it until she turned sixteen? She waited quietly, staring up at the stars as if she was expecting them to tell her the time.

In a matter of a couple of hours, at most, she concluded, still staring up, she would be a year away from being of age. Not that being of age mattered anymore...

After the Ministry allowed underage wizards and witches to use magic outside school walls, what was the point of anticipating her 17^th birthday? These changes were made for the students' own goods, to protect themselves from dangers that popped up everywhere these days. So although she could've used her wand this very instant, she sighed because she was only given appropriate usage for it if a distressing situation occurred.

The Ministry gave her something for her own good, but still it caused Ginny to be depressed every time she thought about it.

Ginny was beginning to sense a pattern here.

Could she blame the Ministry? They were trying to protect people, but she knew the Wizards working in the Ministry much better than that. Aside from her father, of course, the Ministry was just a bunch of selfish adults who didn't want to be blamed if a death occurred.

She cocked her head to the side a bit as she scanned the sky-speckling stars. It had to be midnight by now. She felt as if she had been sitting beside this creek for hours.

"Happy birthday, Ginny," she said elegantly, gesturing her hand forward as if to invite someone to say more.

"Why thank you, Ginny," she replied maturely, closing her eyes and nodding her head.

Did anyone care that the wedding had been placed the day before her birthday? Tomorrow, or rather, later today, she figured, her family and friends would be too tired after the ceremony to do anything major for her. It would be selfish for her to expect them to do much after they had given so much to Bill. And selfish was the last thing Ginny wanted to be at the moment.

She twiddled her wand in the fingers of her left hand, staring blankly at the creek all the while. She imagined the evil going away. She imagined the pain being swept away for a new beginning. She imagined him running to her. She imagined a perfect life with him. She imagined never having kissed him. She imagined never being lead to believe she could have him for long. She imagined him telling her that she was his other half.

She took her wand in her right hand and held it sharply at the water.

"Expecto Patronum," she breathed, her voice carrying traces of fury and tears.

And her new one, silver like the bedazzling stars, ran across the water, dabbing its hooves across the moonbeam-sewn ripples.

"Doe, a deer." And she watched it gallop effortlessly across the water's murmurs until it gently started to become nothing but a small wisp of silver.

Her feet continued to wade until they felt the heel of another shoe. Without a second thought, she kicked this shoe away as well.

It was selfish of him, and no matter what anyone else said, Ginny would stick firmly to that opinion.

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