Rating:
PG
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Ginny Weasley
Genres:
Angst Drama
Era:
Harry and Classmates Post-Hogwarts
Stats:
Published: 01/15/2006
Updated: 01/15/2006
Words: 746
Chapters: 1
Hits: 92

October

HighVoltage

Story Summary:
She falls into his abounding grace.

Chapter 01

Posted:
01/15/2006
Hits:
92


She falls into his abounding grace.

Ginny feels like pulling out every red hair on her head. Each year, it gets more complicated. But the world begins to make sense, finally. She understands how everything works; why things are able to Transfigure, what Charms would work in what situation, and how a mixture of completely unrelated things could turn into a life-saving potion. She has always worked hard, truly she did.

She had seen a homeless person when she was but a young girl. She asked her brothers why that man was in such a poor condition, and Bill said it was because he didn't do well enough in school.

Ever since then, Ginny strives to do well. Not at the top of her class, oh no, but good enough, to complete every assignment with at least an 'A'.

She falls into his abounding grace.

She lost the one person she had given herself to. Ginny shakes her head every time she remembers it. He had been her friend, he had been her comfort. He saw something more than that, but it frightened her off.

And she ran, screaming, into the hills.

His chill is as expected; she used to find herself anticipating it. The numbness, it showed her he cared. She had felt important.

But then there was the conversation. Oh, how she wishes she had not woken up and heard everything he had said.

She was but a puppet to him.

Ginny, with the vivacious smile, one that could light up any autumn day. Her beautiful, beautiful red hair and tanned skin. Her slender body, toned and breathtaking. She was the object of the attention of males around her.

He too, was the cause of lust in so many girls, though even more would admit it only in her dreams. With his pale figure, sharp eyes, and aristocratic cheekbones, there were no way to describe him other than dangerously intense. It was enough to make any girl squirm. He was enough.

Ginny could have gotten anyone from her wildest dreams, the sweetest or the smartest. But instead, she chose him who could easily break her.

She falls into his abounding grace.

"I am who I am. You are who everyone wants you to be."

The words resound in her head. Ginny recalls him saying that meaningless stream of words once, but try as she might she could not remember why. It was as if she had buried it deep inside her, and those words were all that remained.

But it was understandable if she wants to bury them. Ginny has dreams, dreams of digging up fresh soil, though she doesn't know why. All she wants is a life of freedom, freedom from her past, freedom from him, but all she has become is a volunteered captive.

She knows she can't run anymore, and she is sorry. She knows that he knows, he understands. He always has.

Sometimes when she is alone in Diagon Alley, she sees a display in the window, robes that are perfect for him, or maybe a hat. She walks into the store and is halfway to the cashier when she remembers that he has gone.

She always rushes out, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Or sometimes, upon walking, she sees someone that looks so like him she believes it to be him. The familiar swish of his cloak, and the aura of bleakness around him.

But nobody is him.

She falls into his abounding grace.

Ginny has imagined a thousand and more ways for them to be together again. Countless ideas on how they could be bound again, forgetting the limits of the society and expanding in love. There were a handful she had personally picked out, which she feels she can use.

But it doesn't matter anymore.

She falls into his abounding grace.

There is a knock on the door, and Ginny is jolted back into reality. She is in her home, no longer in one they owned together. She clamps her eyes shut, who is it this time?

But she has to take a moment when she sees who it is.

"Ginny," he says, his voice raspy from silence. He was as beautiful as she remembered. "I'm free."

She feels all the wind being knocked out of her stomach, and a tear rushes out of her now closed eyes. "I am too," she whispers, not opening her eyes. "I am too."

And she falls into his abounding grace.