- Rating:
- PG
- House:
- The Dark Arts
- Characters:
- Ginny Weasley Tom Riddle
- Genres:
- Angst Romance
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Chamber of Secrets
- Stats:
-
Published: 04/18/2003Updated: 04/18/2003Words: 1,121Chapters: 1Hits: 419
Never Perfect
Flaming Beauty
- Story Summary:
- She still loves him. She may not admit it, but she does. G/T
- Posted:
- 04/18/2003
- Hits:
- 419
- Author's Note:
- Ginny's poetry is actually mine. I didn't copy it from anywhere.
Ginny was alone, or at least she felt that way. She had no friends at all, and her brother was a stupid git. He treated her like she had a two-dimensional personality. She was either happy, or angry. To him she would always be Ginny, his sweet little sister who was always around to run errands, or to cover for him.
Sure Harry and Hermione acted like they were her friends, but they didn't know her, and she was sure they did it only because she was Ron's little sister. They were really only acquaintances.
To all Ginny's peers she was the outcast. The poor shy little girl had fallen prey to Voldemort's tricks in her first year. They didn't know her either.
Ginny had known something was wrong with the diary. She had known that she should have thrown it out, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She had finally found a friend. Someone who knew the real her.
Over the time that she wrote in it she had fallen in love with Tom, and had finally told him. He confessed that for some time he had felt the same way for her.
After that she had begun doing things for him. He had told her she didn't have to, that he could always get someone else. She had wanted to though. She had killed the chickens for him, among other things.
No one knew this, but Ginny was a parslemouth. She had known since she was little. She often spoke with snakes in her garden at home. But only when there was no way that anyone could be listening. She used her ability to help him too. When Hermione had found out about the basilisk she had set it on her. She knew Hermione would only be petrified. She was to smart to be killed. All Ginny needed was to buy some time for herself and Tom.
She had followed Tom's directions, and opened the chamber herself, but not before killing the last chicken, and smearing it's blood on the wall stating that she had been "taken" into the chamber.
She had known it was over as soon as Harry had showed up. She heard the fight, and knew that Tom would lose. After all she had done she would never get her happily ever after. She heard Tom call her name while he was getting sucked back into the diary, and began to sob. No one would ever think that it was for the "monster" that had "possessed" her for so long.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She was sitting under her tree in the Forbidden Forest It was the beginning of her 5th year, and she was already becoming very depressed. What she overheard on the way downstairs had been the straw that broke the camels back.
--flashback--
"None of us have enough time, or want to do it for that matter. So ask Ginny to do it. It's not like she has anyone who'll take up her time. If you hadn't noticed she doesn't have any friends."
Ginny came storming down the stairs. "Harry James Potter, that is quite possibly the meanest thing that I've ever heard said about me!" She punched him HARD in the face. All the force she had in her small frame was put behind her arm. He was knocked flat on the ground, and was left with a bloody nose, and an already forming bruise. "If you'll refrain from talking behind my back then I'll never have cause to hit you that hard again." She gave him a glare that would rival Malfoy's, and rushed out of the room before her brother to recover enough from the shock to attack her, and Hermione to lecture her about violence.
She ended up where she always did, under her tree.
--end flashback--
"I knew a lot of people think of me that way, but even my friends think of me as friendless. How pathetic am I. They aren't really my friends. I don't have any friends, and I don't need ay either!" she repeated as if to reassure herself of the fact.
Ginny sighed, and opened her notebook. She began to write.
No one knows me,
No on cares.
No one loves me,
No one dares.
To most I'm shy,
Afraid to say Hi.
I'm really depressed,
Must I digress,
The reason why,
I often cry.
A love gone wrong,
A lover's song.
We never kissed,
But I still miss,
His dark brown eyes,
They told no lies.
The way he wrote,
He seldom spoke.
My one and only
He left me lonely.
He was my only friend,
But no one can mend
The damage that's done,
The battle was won.
The good side triumphed,
But I still lost.
My greatest love,
Was the cost.
For him I write
This poem tonight.
Wish you were here.
I miss you dear....Diary.
No one else would know who the poem was about. Tom. She still mourned his death for years later. Even though she was over him she sometimes wondered what it would have been like if he had been born into her time. She sat and read over the poem again, and remembered all the others she had written for him.
She wasn't over him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She had been going out to her tree everyday for the past week. No one noticed her absence. She had been writing more poetry, and remembering some too. Like his favorite. It was the first that she had shown him.
Enigma
A question without and answer is a mystery.
A mystery with a question. How hard could it be?
Answer me that. Riddle me this.
If knowledge is power, why is ignorance bliss?
As she repeated it aloud she began to cry. She threw her notebook across the clearing, and put her face in her hands. She had loved him, and Harry had "killed" him. It wasn't fair!
After an eternity of crying, she dried her eyes, retrieved her notebook, and wrote.
Someday we'll meet again,
And it,
Won't be a sin,
To love you so,
You will know.
There won't be rules or boundaries,
Our love will grow, unhindered and free.
I'll love you , and you'll love me.
A perfect love, a perfect life.
Free of grief, free of strife.
You'll be king; I'll be your wife
We'll be happy in our perfect life.
She hadn't realized she put the word perfect in there so many times until she re read it.
"Perfect." she said
"Perfect is a lie. A dream. For me at least." she bitterly said.
A last tear rolled down her cheek as she grabbed her things, and left.
-end-
The poetry was all mine.