Insane Misery

Ginny Weasley stared absentmindedly out Leaky Cauldron's obviously invisible window. Out onto the Muggle Street she stared. Her tea lay limp on the marvellous table she was practically sentenced too. Her finger grazed the cup as if it were some sort of fluffy animal. She wasn't sure what she was staring at, just that she was, and that she would be for about another minute of two.

"Would you like another glass, m'dear?" asked a ditzy waitress, distracting Ginny from her view.

"No thanks, I'm fine," she said as she turned back to the Muggle Street reminiscent of her still-hanging-on Crush, Harry Potter. The waitress showed no sign of relenting and stood rooted to her spot, trying to figure out what Ginny was interested in.

"I'm sure it's beautiful out there, but surely, you have nothing else to do?" Ginny turned slightly and faced the waitress, forcing a smile that was unlike her own to indicate an answer. Taking the hint, the waitress turned and walked away, almost reluctantly.

Taking her gaze once more, Ginny sighed; apparently, something had traveled into that barren mind of hers.

There she was, at age seventeen, alone, at The Leaky Cauldron. She never imagined the freedom. But that wasn't what had found way into her mind. It was the War with Voldemort.

How could the Muggles be so oblivious to the happenings in the Wizarding world? Surely, one of them has to know something. A brutal, barbaric war--with many pugnacious, ill-intended wizards, and some witches-- is being fought on the other face of the earth, and as far as Ginny was concerned, the Muggles seemed apathetic to the whole ordeal. The simpler Muggle life got, the more complex and complicated the Wizarding life got. It was like a never ending cycle.

Now, a Muggle woman with two children walked straight across the window Ginny had been staring out of. A young girl, one of which was dressed in milk chocolate skin stared at the window and at Ginny. They hadn't even noticed. Ginny often wondered how the strange powers she possessed actually worked. How was it her mind could pick up things others (Muggles) couldn't? How did any witch or wizard pick up intricate ideas, for that matter? The thought had always been dismissed as tedious or redundant, and neither Ginny nor her brain wanted to work that hard.

So she focused in on something much more vibrant. Her last year at Hogwarts! The perfect thought had smuggled its way into her intellect. They had finally found a consecutive Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher with a rather uninteresting past and monotonous future. Therefore, she was perfect for the job. The teacher's name was Raven Kennicot. To touch upon details of her physical appearance would be a waste. To put it quite blatant, the teacher was perfect for the job. The spitting wit of Professor Remus Lupin himself. Ginny liked to think Professor Kennicot was more than just an individual; sometimes related to Lupin himself. Or maybe she would be much better if she were related to Professor Snape, who had not lightened up a bit since Harry had graduated a year ago.

And speaking of the graduation, Ginny thought, was the perfect time to grope around what hers would be like. Maybe a spitting image of last years or maybe even a better one. Dumbledore always catered to the seventh year's graduation as if it were his own, and boy did he remember his. It was always the same thing for every seventh year.

"My graduation was spectacular. Perfect Brilliance. Better than Hogwarts at Christmastime. Marvellous. I daresay my fellow graduates thought the same..."

He would go on, describing the precise location's scenery, and the décor of the place, never letting go.

Let go.

How was Ginny going to let go? She had been with these people for seven years! How was she to just forget they ever existed? It was hard enough seeing her own brother leave the school. This was the first year she would have to herself. She would own Hogwarts this year. Whatever it took, she would make a new reputation for herself. The first six years were just practise...to cue her up for this moment. Now she took control.

And speaking of control, another person was throwing an outright temper tantrum at Tom the bartender for not putting the right ice in her fizz. She was going absolutely mad saying she ordered two blocks of ice rather than one. The nerve of some people. As Ginny turned back to that same godforsaken window, she nearly spit out the bit of tea that was lingering on her tongue from her last gulp of it.

The window was blocked. A large piece of wood was now up against the window. Muggle builders must've decided to put something in the place of the supposed "imperceptible" pub.

Ginny stood up to leave. She grabbed her tea cup and walked up to the bar, smiling. Her eyes danced with contentment as she handed it to Tom, who was cleaning another goblet.

"That'd be all, I assume?" Tom asked as Ginny laughed.

"That should be all for now. Bye Tom," Ginny said blissfully as she walked out of the pub and onto Diagon Alley

The street seemed to sparkle in perfection. The floating lights all along the cobbled stone seemed to emit a sense of comfort, or safety. Ginny walked along the ranks only realising for the first time that the street was completely deserted. She turned to her left, no one. She turned to her right, no one.

Yet, lights in stores were on and people were in stores, so why wasn't anyone out on the street?

She ignored the prospect of being alone on the streets of Diagon Alley and continued walking. She also ignored the qualms of homesickness she had just seemed to swallow. She just needed a walk. She had promised her mum she would be home by ten at the least.

So she had an hour to roam the streets of Diagon Alley.

But as soon as her face lit up, it diffused again.

CRUNCH! The noise had come from behind Ginny. She turned ever so slightly on one heel and stopped dead in her tracks as another noise was heard. A paroxysm of anxiety hit her.

THUMP! This time the noise was closer, rather, next to her, to be exact. In order to wrap the lurking feeling of someone following her, she hummed in a rather loud tone to herself. Her eyes shifted from side to side as they raked the streets of the long street and rested on a silky looking wooden bench, which Ginny reluctantly sat on, still humming loudly to the wind who seemed quite responsive to the tune she was humming.

The day was absolutely breathtaking. Slightly darker than when she was in Leaky Cauldron, the sky bore down on her as if to attack, and Ginny cowered at the thought. Pervading any empty space that may be left in it, stars began to twinkle brightly as she continued to glare at the sky in sheer hatred. If only she wasn't so stubborn as to have gone home in the first place. The moon shunted past a downy cloud and crept slowly into the sky. Ginny smiled at its beautiful triumph.

Diagon Alley was reaching its limits, and Ginny was going completely mad...thinking someone was following her...

How silly...

CRACK!

Okay, someone was undeniably following her. Ginny stood up quickly, and, while glaring behind her, began to walk. As soon as she was close enough to a store which pertained much to Potions, she turned her head.

Ginny would have wanted to scream, she knew it for sure, but she couldn't. As quickly as her head had curved, she'd been pinned against a nearby tree, and was, frankly, being choked. The person casually slid over to a more enigmatic area as his grip around Ginny's neck and body tightened. The pain was agonizing. Ginny struggled for air. Clasping her hands over the persons arm, she stared up into the person's eyes. This was completely implausible. The person smiled maliciously and shuffled toward a different alley, loosening his grip on her. But this person's sardonic personality didn't seem to fit him. After all, it was--

"This is going to be quick and quiet. Any screaming and you had better be sure to hide yourself from now on," said the man, creeping toward her in pleasure.

"W-why are you doing this?" she asked pathetically, trying hard to push herself back further, though she felt she'd push herself through.

"Isn't this what you've always wanted? Anything that mediocre eighteen year old can do, I can do better," said the man, and Ginny knew, somehow miraculously, that he was comparing himself to none other than--himself. After all, this personality was nothing like the eighteen year old boy he was describing as "middling".

Ginny scrambled to her feet. "This...This..." she stammered, stepping forward a bit.

"Have you been addressed to move?" The man's voice was jagged and he removed his robe quickly and easily as he shoved Ginny to the floor again. He laughed with wickedness. This wickedness hadn't fit him years ago, and it didn't fit him now. What exactly was he up to?

"Stop it. You're scaring me," Ginny said as she attempted to move again.

"Off with those stupid robes...NOW!" Ginny didn't budge. She couldn't. This wasn't happening. He wasn't doing this.

"No."

"There's nothing I like more than a difficult woman, especially when she's completely vulnerable to my power."

"Shut up," Ginny said sharply, as she stood up again. Not helpful at all, she sat back down, agreeing with his words.

"Now, this is easier."

He walked toward her and yanked her robes off, leaving her in the thin tank top and skirt she had left the house with. Ginny recognised the skirt as none other than her Hogwarts skirt.

Why was she wearing her Hogwarts skirt?

The thought quickly flew out of her mind, as the man who had just pulled her robe off pulled her strap harshly, sending it flying into the air.

Up...Up...Gone.

Ginny watched as her tank top became nothing less than a bra she had seen her favourite singing sensation, Cassidy Bliss, wear during a live concert.

But the man ventured upon something new this time, and he grabbed her chin roughly and kissed her roguishly. As much as she enjoyed the kiss, she couldn't let it get to her. He was trying to do something Ginny would never let him even if he had accepted her invitation to his sixth year Yule Ball. Ginny kissed back, moaning steadily.

"You like that, don't you?" he asked, as he condemned her to the wall, and stroked the outline of her chest easily.

"Why couldn't you have told me how you felt?" Ginny asked stupidly, as she, herself, pulled him in for another kiss.

"Don't be the imbecile you were made out to feel like, Ginny...I don't like you..."

Then it hit Ginny. Just as his hand raked her thigh tightly and rested solely on her left butt cheek, she pulled away.

"No..." she said slowly, lifting a finger and pointing it at him shakily..."No..."

"No what?" He smirked. Another gesture that didn't fit him at all. He walked up to her, but she backed away.

"No..."

It was too late. He had grabbed hold of her within a second and flung her against a garbage can.

"Now stay still, this won't hurt a bit." He fidgeted with his belt, as if he didn't want to do what he was about to. He sighed meekly before he had finally opened his pants. Ginny grabbed her legs instantaneously and pulled them in closely. She rocked back and forth.

Back and forth.

He grabbed them and pulled them apart like bread.

The next sensation Ginny felt was utter warmth. So this is what it felt like. Nothing like hell. Her eyes fluttered longingly as his 'private' exited hers. Had he just...no...he couldn't have. But for some reason, she longed for it. She knew she had been deprived of something, but finally finding out it was this was insane. She let the thought flutter into the depths of darkness and pushed past this man, knowing she needed to get away.

But she was as useless as a footstool. A docile person, to the man. Yet, a waste of human flesh to herself. She had felt used, violated. Of course, he wasn't done.

Ginny groaned accordingly, and slumped slowly against the wall. Now he was in...he was out...he was up...he was down...occasionally he would grab her chin and force a kiss to distract her, a kiss which Ginny knew was reluctant enough to subside. She tried grinning, to show strength, but it was futile. She was being wasted. It was as if she had suddenly turned into an inanimate object, a soda can, per se, which had been drunken.

Every gulp...

Every drop that touched the tongue of this malevolent scum...

Yet the scum was superior to her...

She was inferior...

She was Ginny Weasley...

Seventeen years old...and where was she?

'Mum must be worried,' she thought stupidly as the man shoved her against the wall and wore her out until she was so weak she couldn't stand straight. She looked drunk.

'I must look like Ron on New Years,' she thought madly as she slumped to the floor, eyes rolling into her head. As her vision cleared, she saw the man fixing himself as if he had done nothing more than met with an old girlfriend for a midnight chat. He stared at her...

Even though she was completely wasted, she looked into his eyes. An utter ruefulness; a complete hatred in himself. His eyes told her that he deserved death for his dastardly deed. His eyes raced with a loathing even his enemy couldn't send him, and he glared at Ginny Weasley, red and bloody on the floor. He could do that? He had. He had to walk away. After all, that was what he was punished to do.

"Wait...where are you going?" she asked drunkenly but longingly as her gaze followed a red trail on the ground. "Look at that," she began insanely, "I'm bleeding."

She was buck naked, outside, in a small alleyway she didn't know Diagon Alley had. She let her hand stretch out to her clothes, which were black and filthy. Mum'd surely have her for this.

Torn.

All torn.

Her robe...her clothes...

She looked down.

Her undergarments...

She had just let someone take advantage of her. The violation he had brought unto her was inevitable. The tiny person with an attitude is what she grew up to become, and it was thrown away over a simple mistake. A mistake? That was all she could call it? Why couldn't she think of a better word to describe the intense pain between her thighs? Was she supposed to live with this? How stupid. And who of all people was the one who dispossessed her of all this, in spite of the strength she knew she had?

She curled up by the black trash bags lying on the ground.

"I'm a lonely girl, I'll tell a tale for you..." She sang until she fell asleep. She knew she would never be the same again...

How daft was that?

Her body, a mere attraction, had been taken for granted.

So now it wasn't hers anymore.

It was his. It was in his possession. "When will I get it back?" she asked herself mentally, tightening the ball she was in after waking up and letting a slow tear trickle down her slim cheek.

The reluctant, diffused man had been so rough when he had done her in.

Her innocent self had been lost.

But what scared her most was who had done it. He was unwilling...but yet, when Ginny had been staring into his eyes during the ordeal, he had been expressionless. The black eyes haunted her still. He was nonetheless handsome, but completely devoid of emotion. The impassive bastard had sent Ginny mixed messages while excruciating pain was sent into her, around her, all over her.

She shook her head.

"Why'd I let him do it?" she asked herself as she eyed her surroundings. It was now a dismal black outside, and the only reason she could sense anything was because the breeze seemed to pass her, yet, all the same, go into her, engulf her, and send shudders down her spine while entrancing her to think she was still safe. She grinned viciously at the pleasure.

"Mum's expecting me!" she said impedingly as she scuttled to her feet. She grabbed the robe she had surveyed on the ground and picked it up. But it didn't wrap around her.

It was frayed to bits.

"What?" she said slowly as she let her brown eyes scrape her own body in displeasure.

She realised how stupid she was being and she closed her eyes chanting, "This isn't happening".

This time the cold hit like a bucket of ice and she grabbed her bare flesh in a heartbeat. As her eyes remained closed, she witnessed another pair of eyes and she remembered. I've been raped, now, what am I still doing here? She opened her eyes before the others grew closer and placed a shaking finger on the insides of her thighs.

Blood.

She had to close her eyes. She felt so exposed, other than the fact that she physically was.

This time the eyes were black, but as she tightened her eyes with the air floating through her like Nearly Headless Nick, the eyes found colour.

They were a sort of black, no.....

Green.

A brilliant green at that. The emerald eyes glinted with horror as they swam into view. The malicious bits sent shivers down Ginny's spine, and goose bumps poked out on her face.

Every detail trailed back into Ginny's mind as she thought. It seemed to fill her mind like one of those Muggle pools...inflatable enough to sprinkle water into it.

She was still naked as the whole scene draped her completely.

So what about that new reputation? Well, if anyone found out what had happened, she'd be set.