Strange Innocence

Ginny placed the silver utensil back in its place and stared up into her room's ceiling. She closed her eyes to stop a tear from streaming down her face. Too late. It trickled down her face and splashed onto her clenched hand. After moments of hesitation she picked the utensil back up and walked swiftly towards the bathroom her parents had magicked up for her only two years before.

She ignored the setting and walked straight to the sink. She glanced down and sighed heavily.

There were three...no, five veins throbbing menacingly and seemingly saying, "Go ahead. Do it." She ignored their empty talk and stared at them. This would be the last time she'd be able to work them. She quickly took in her bathroom. Its pale blue curtains hanging around a window stories high above the ground, the effervescence of her mismatched shower curtain of the colours blue and green. Then she looked at her toilet, equip with a fuzzy brown top.

Then she forced herself to take in her own room, so she placed the utensil down once again and walked to it. She stood at the doorway to the bathroom and took in the room reminiscent of her life thus far. Her bed sheets were made and her floor had been swept magically. The hangings at her window blew easily in the breeze her open window emitted. The hearth-rug she was stepping on was one of rash beauty. It scraped her bare feet, and she longed to scratch them but felt as if she should let it itch, as this would probably be the last physical feeling she would experience.

After taking in the room's appearance, she walked over to her bed and sat on it, feeling the sheets crease under her weight. Her head fell down to her chest and she sighed loosely.

A pang of fear hit her like a lightening bolt as she thought of the task she had set out for herself.

"Come on, Gin. Stop being a baby; you're eighteen years old!" she muttered under her breath, hoping this would shake the fear out of her. Unfortunately, her utterance was one to no avail, as she felt even worse afterward. She tilted her head sideways and spotted a box in plaid design lying next to her bed, half open.

She laughed, then, with a new emotion running through her body, picked it up and opened it carefully.

As if trying to pervade her mind to show her she was not supposed to go yet, papers flew out of the box and landed all around her. The box was bewitched by Ginny herself, and purposely of course, for when she needed reminders of why she had been able to stand tall with her chin up for this long.

She picked up a frame that was still in the box and inspected it carefully. The people in the picture waved gently back at her, then two boys who were feet away from each other began bickering. A girl with now very curly brown hair stepped between them and stretched her arms toward each of them. Ginny could read her lips saying "Stop it all ready!" She giggled silently.

Her fingers traced the frame simply. Homemade as it was, it looked store bought, in other words, beautifully made. The background a dim midnight blue, the frame was decorated with all sorts of gadgets Ginny had found in Hogwarts. She had decided they were quite valuable and used them in the most useful way she could think up.

As her eyes grazed the picture once again, she noticed the group standing back in position. Their robes were unlike the normal Hogwarts robes. Three were scarlet gowns, the girl with the curly brown hair endowed with a golden stole that said distinctly: Head Girl-Top in Class of 1997. And in a tinier font on the bottom of the stole it read: Hogwarts Honours. The other two, who happened to be boys, were not wearing a stole at all, and instead were equip with long ribbons thrown over their shoulders the colour gold, which shone brightly in the picture.

These three were the Hogwarts Trio: Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Harry Potter. It was surprising how well Harry handled not grasping the Head Boy position. Ron, on the other hand, was furious, especially since the Head Boy of his year was...

And then Ginny stared at the other boy, who was smirking his wicked smirk. His robes were green, and he was wearing a stole which read almost the same as Hermione's. Head Boy, and on the bottom, Hogwarts Honours. This boy, who was a reasonable five inches away from the trio, was Draco Malfoy.

Yes, Draco Malfoy had beaten both Ron and Harry for Head Boy, which surprised him as well. Of course, there were more important things going on behind the scenes with Draco "Head Boy" Malfoy.

Ginny had had the honour of accidentally being hurt while trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team in her fifth year. Incidentally, Draco had been hurt as well, due to some sort of mad Hippogriff sixth year.

"I didn't insult him. I was merely speaking the truth, which says a lot as I'm not one to go in that direction," he had said with a note of disbelief in his voice then added, "I don't think Hippogriffs like me much anyway. That Buggerboot (or whatever his name was) was horrid enough. I don't need this. So what if I wouldn't have insulted him. I'd be here anyway. Hippogriffs are morons. MADAM POMFREY!"

Ginny, who was about two beds away from him scoffed. This had been the fifth time he had called for Madam Pomfrey within that hour. But then something miraculous happened and one night while Ginny was sound asleep in her bed, the scratching of a quill to a piece of parchment woke her and she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

By the window, in a small arch was Draco, who was writing something vigorously on the parchment. Ginny sighed and noticed Draco shudder with anxiety.

"Sorry," she replied to the shudder. "Could you write...softer, perhaps?" she asked.

Draco only shook his head. "I can't and I won't. I've got to get this done before the sun rises."

Ginny grabbed a hair clip by her bed and tied her hair into a simple pony tail. She shoved the covers aside and walked--rather, limped--to Draco. Then she stood quite still and stared around before acting quickly and snatching the parchment, letting a large black streak run along the page. Draco lunged at her like a maniac and forced the parchment out of her hands, which was now crumpled. Ginny opened her eyes with shock.

"What's written on it?" she asked amused, trying to keep her face keen with valor because she wasn't intent on crying because a boy just tackled her. She wasn't about to penalise Draco for it either: it just wasn't worth it.

"I'm not telling you. Go back to sleep or whatever before I really hurt that leg of yours. Go on then." And he walked back to his position by the window and dipped the quill into the ink bottle.

Looking at the Head Boy form of Draco in his cap and gown brought Ginny to tears since she still remembered exactly what was written on the parchment, which was on her desk the next day. That specific parchment was now one the papers which has thrust itself at her when the box was first opened. She picked it up.

Ginny,

This, of course, isn't easy to say, so I decided to write it out instead. I can't stand it here anymore...being in the same room with you--so close...it's nerving. And so I write you this letter, aware that my time here is scarce, and I probably won't see you unless I'm insulting you or tearing you to bits with my snide remarks which I happen to think are quite intelligent--Ginny scoffed. As she continued reading, she noticed the streak she had caused on the bottom of the parchment--I never thought it possible for anyone to fall for a Weasley, and dismissed the thought of actually having a crush on you as ludicrous. But then that Mudblood Granger fell for the Weasel. This wasn't fair, I thought selfishly. If a Mudblood could gain a Weasley by merely admitting they love them, then so could I...a Malfoy.

And so you think I'm cruel. I'm malicious. I'm sardonic. I'm a cesspool of hatred. But I don't care, because a Malfoy can fall in love and one has.

Ginny Weasley--I love you.

Obviously and quite bemused, Draco Malfoy

And they had been a couple ever since.

So now Ginny placed the framed picture back in the box, Ron and Draco arguing heavily as Harry sunk down against a pillar and Hermione tried to bring Ron to his senses before he was knocked out.

Another tear.

Splash.

Ginny picked herself up off the bed and threw the papers into the box. She was going to do it. She wasn't scared, she wasn't--

She was terrified. Terrified out of her wits.

But then she thought of why she was doing this, and her fear seemed to leave her hastily, as if something was telling her she now had to do this.

Her life, everyone thought, was perfect. Ginny had clasped tightly on to the Head Girl position in her seventh year and she was dating Draco Malfoy; girls envied her. She had been Dumbledore's new favourite, after Harry had gone, and she was a spectacular Seeker, though nowhere near as good as Harry (though she had led Gryffindor to win the Quidditch cup in her seventh year).

And still, as any other perfectionist, she was unhappy. There was still the matter of following her brothers' footsteps even though she so easily made it clear that she wanted to make some of her own. There was also the matter of the unresolved crush. Don't mistake her, she loved Draco, and they had declared their love for one another days ago, but whenever she was around Harry, old feelings were brought into contact and she felt like an eleven year old again.

Obviously, she had never told Draco or, anyone for that matter, of her odd sort of affection towards Harry and she planned to keep it that way.

Then there was the whole Chamber of Secrets ordeal that still taunted her. Nobody even bothered to ask what Tom had done to her in the chamber, and no one seemed interested, really. Her mother had been so concerned for Harry and Ron's sake, that she forgot Ginny was in there for hours alone with a sixteen-year-old. Ginny thought it was obvious what had happened; she had had to dispose of her filthy undergarments afterward. She was questioned about them by a roommate, but it was only because this was Ginny's only friend, and calling her a "friend" was the complete opposite of an understatement.

Yes, Tom Riddle had raped Ginny and deprived her of the girl she was and wanted to be. He had done her in, and thrown her Hogwarts uniform on sheepishly afterward when Ginny was alive--of course 'only just'.

She cringed at the horrid memory and forced her mind to lay on the task ahead. She was going to do this. Unwanted feelings and being a shadow of something already made were things Ginny never wanted to have under her wings, and she wasn't going to keep them, even if it took death.

This time, Ginny pulled out parchment and a quill and scribbled down a note. You'd expect it to be long, now wouldn't you? There was nothing to explain but to explain, if you understood that statement. She only wanted to give them a general idea; her diaries would provide the rest. Of course, Ginny flinched at the word diary but was aware that she did indeed keep one after the CoS predicament.

To whoever snatches this up first, please show this to my family, if you're not part of it already,

This won't be long and it won't be boring. It'll be quite general and it will not bring you to tears. So, I'll just jot down my dilemmas, and you can comprehend what I mean when you read my diary for a further exploration on the sickly situation.

I've got unresolved feelings for Harry Potter. A schoolgirl crush can actually have a lasting effect.

Draco, I love you, but I don't know if I can stand this any longer. You're not the cause. Believe me, will you? You've got a cold, nasty heart, and that's why I love you so very much...don't change, all right?--Ginny smiled slightly.

In the Chamber of Secrets, Tom Riddle raped me, and left me there only just alive. None of you ever bothered to ask, or ever cared, that I spent hours with a teenage boy...but now you know what happened.

I've tried ever so desperately to tell mum that I have to make my own footsteps, leave my own footprints, and I don't need her to hold my hand. I'm sick of being my brothers' shadows'.

I'm also sick of being Mrs. Ginny "perfect" Weasley. I hate everyone's perception of me...and I can't change a seven year reputation.

So I'm putting an end to all this pain, all these unresolved emotions. I don't deserve life. God doesn't want me to live...this, death, is my destiny, and I'm so lucky you can't stop me from my fate.

Good-Bye.

Yep, that sounded about right. She folded up the note and placed it on her bed before returning to the bathroom and picking up the knife she had left. She would finish what she started, no matter how fearful she was.

She was right, God didn't need her on this earth; he didn't need, nor want, her to live this long. In her mind, birth was just the beginning of death, so why not just die? All the obstacles in-between were all rubbish...preparing her for this...

"It's all over now," Ginny said with a slight smile as she stared at her reflection for the last time.

What gazed frightfully back at her was a girl with blazing hair, and she clutched her head afraid of the fire it had naturally but metaphorically caused. She noticed her face would have been pale if her freckles hadn't overtaken her skin and tanned it to a golden sort of colour, only more murk some. Her eyes, a deep brown, were completely boring, and if you were to look deep into them, no story would be brought unto you. They were completely emotionless, and Ginny despised them for that. Unlike Draco's malicious yet story-telling grey eyes, Ginny's brown eyes were tedious and quite redundant; she hoped they would close once she had killed herself--no one should have to see them.

Another of her miserable features reflected in the mirror were her thin lips, tiny nose, and minuscule ears. She couldn't take it anymore. She had found the guts to go through with it and nothing could stop her now--

"GINNY!" An ear shattering yell rang in Ginny's ears and the knife slipped from her grip and clattered into the sink. She yelled back, frustrated.

"I'M BUSY! Leave me alone!" Then before anyone could rush to her room and force her out, she lifted the knife, and watched as her own hand clasped over the silver handle (reminiscent of Draco's eyes) and was thrust down onto her wrist, which began to bleed excessively.

But she wasn't dead. Why wasn't she dead? She could see her wrist was now distorted and horrific. She could see that she had slammed into one of her precious veins, which was now throbbing painfully. She could see that the knife had been buried so deep into her skin it took her minutes to pry it out again. And then--

KNOCK KNOCK!

Ginny shook and began to panic. "Die already...die..." she told her wrist, as if it were the premise of her body.

"Ginny! Get out here! Charlie's just arrived from Romania! We're going to dinner!" The door rattled. "What's going on in there?"

Ginny noticed the door crack open and she shut the bathroom door with a bang before locking it.

"I'm in the bathroom, mum! Get out of my room; I'll be out in a second!" Ginny replied as her mother fiddled with the knob on her bathroom door.

She heard her mother sigh. "Fine, then. Just be quick. Your brother really wants to see you."

And she heard her leave the room.

The pain in her left wrist stung and made her fall over. She gripped onto the fuzzy toilet cover and began to breathe heavily.

"This is it," she said thickly, as she realised she was losing blood as quickly as Fred drunk on New Years. "Yes..."

She glanced at her wrist as it writhed in pain and discomfort.

"Almost over..."

And then she saw it stop its shaking and fall limp, as she herself, fell to the cemented bathroom floor with a crack. Her head crashed onto the floor and she began to bleed from there as well, but of course she couldn't feel this...

Ginny Weasley was dead.