Everybody Else's Girl

"Come to me, Ginevra. Come to me. Come to me."

And she smiles.

--

1.

from in the shadow she calls
and in the shadow she
finds a way finds a way
and in the shadow she crawls
clutching her faded photograph
my image under her thumb
yes with a message for my heart
yes with a message for my heart

--

She still speaks to him, sometimes.

It was her little secret. Secrets for quiet nights, cold nights, nights when she should have been tucked into bed.

He invades her mind, invades her thoughts. He speaks to her at the most inopportune of moments. Like when she is sitting in the bath, trying to relax. Or when she is studying for her next Potions exam. Or when she is glancing over her shoulder, glancing at him.

Take him, the voice tells her, you know you want to. Take him, make him yours.

She squashes the voice as small as she can make it.

He laughs.

Because no matter how hard she tries, a small part of her wishes she could. Take him.

And he knows. Just like he knows all of her secrets. All of her fears.

All of her desires.

Uses them against her as he invades her dreams. Sometimes, he makes her think of kissing him, wanting him, having him.

Hurting him, like he's hurt her.

Other times, she dreams of blood. Blood and chicken's feathers and a diary that talks back.

A snake that travels through the walls and captures her with its eyes as it tears into her, makes her bleed.

And then the blood isn't hers, its his. Run through his heart with a sword, Gryffindor's sword, and she wakes with a start, clutching at the sheets, sweating, breathing heavily.

"Go away," she whispers, "please, just go away."

He laughs. Knowing that's the last thing she wants.

They both know what will happen if anyone finds out - nasty words and prodding her mind with spells and them chastising her, sending her away.

Sending him away.

He knows she doesn't want that, tells her so, softly. Gently. Mocking.

And she is silent. Because she knows he is right.

Because he's still the only one who understands her.

Come to me, Ginevra. Come to me. Come to me.

She rolls over and ignores his voice in her head. Soft. Slow. Haunting her, taunting her. Laughing at her.

He is still her little secret.

--

2.

and in the doorway they stay
and laugh as violins fill with water
screams from the bluebells
can't make them go away
we'll i'm not seventeen
but i've cuts on my knees
falling down as the winter
takes one more cherry tree

--

She has never felt this way before.

Numb. Frigid.

Unwanted.

She saw them together, outside, by the lake. Holding hands, her sitting with her back against his chest. Him with his back against the tree, facing away from the castle, from the world.

From her.

They look so happy.

She squashes the idea as soon as she thinks it. Thoughts like that will get her nowhere. Thoughts like that will make her miserable. Make her cry, make her scream.

Make her lose control.

She sits in front of the mirror, staring at her own reflection. Wondering if he's kissed her. If he's touched her.

If he's fucked her.

The mirror cracks down the middle, and still she stares. At her distorted reflection, at her eyes. Blank, dull. Devoid of emotion.

I know what you're feeling, Ginevra, he says. She ignores him, takes a brush and violently pulls it through her hair.

You want to hurt him like he's hurt you, he says. Still she ignores him, staring at her face, pulling the brush through her hair faster and faster. Her eyes suddenly blinded by tears.

Let me help you, Ginevra. Come to me, and we can make him pay. Come to me, Ginevra. We can make him pay, together.

She throws the brush at the mirror. Shattered glass falls, landing on her hands, cutting her fingers.

The tears finally fall. She silently lets them.

Come to me come to me come to me.

And he laughs.

--

3.

rushin' rivers
thread so thin of limitation
or dreams with the flying pigs
turbid blue and the drugstores too safe in
their coats and in their do's yeah
smother in our hearts
a pillow to my dots

--

"Well, well, well, what have we here?"

Malfoy.

He can help you get to me. It's what you wanted, isn't it? He knows you were coming. What you want. Come to me, Ginevra.

"Looking for something?" He smirks.

She smiles. It's not her usual smile. It's dark and it's sinister. It's full of empty thoughts, empty dreams.

Empty promises he couldn't keep.

She walks up to him and presses her finger to his lips. Presses her hips against his. Presses her mouth to his.

Her arms wind around his neck. His tongue snakes into her mouth. He's not gentle. He was always gentle.

His hand pulls her shirt from her skirt, slips beneath to cup her breast and squeeze. Slips into the waistband of her knickers. Her breath catches, her thoughts coming to a screeching halt.

Yes, that's right. That's good. Forget about him, don't think about him.

She clutches at his shoulders. Slips her hand down his pants to touch him, moves her hand up and down. Tries not to cry out as he lifts her up against the wall and slams into her. She wraps her legs around his waist. Moans loudly as he moves in and out. Almost screams as she comes.

He grunts. Buries his head into her neck, spent. Breathes heavily.

And smiles.

She realizes, suddenly, that he's expected this.

She realizes, suddenly, that she doesn't care.

--

4.

and in the mist there she rides
and castles are burning in my heart
and as i twist i hold tight
and i ride to work
every morning wondering why

"sit in the chair and be good now"
and become all that they told you
the white coats enter her room
and i'm callin' my baby
callin' my baby callin' my baby callin'

--

Sometimes, she regrets going to him.

Sometimes, she can imagine them finding his hideout. Rushing in, wands held high. Finding her. Seeing her. Rescuing her.

"It is a fool's hope, Ginevra. You regret nothing. We both know that." His mouth against her mouth. Skin against skin. At these times, he makes her forget.

Sometimes, when the moon is full and high in the sky, she can see Hogwarts, bright against the sky. She can almost hear their laughter. The gossip.

She can almost remember his smile. She can almost remember her family.

But she can't remember the girl she used to be.

At these times, he comes to her, puts a hand on her shoulder, slips the other under her shirt. Runs his fingers against her skin. He looks seventeen, like the boy he used to be.

She knows it's just a mask. She knows it's just a game. She knows she should go back, back to Hogwarts. Back to them. Back to him.

They both know she wouldn't dare.

She looks out the window. Notices his Death Eaters on the move, Malfoy, the elder and the son, in the lead. She knows there will be deaths tonight.

A part of her wishes she could go with them. Point her wand, whisper a hushed Avada Kedavra, and watch the body fall.

She thinks, at first, that these thoughts are his. She realizes, almost at once, that they are her own.

She finds this doesn't scare her.

She finds she doesn't care.

He puts a finger under her chin and she looks into his eyes. They are cold, but not empty. Full of passion, of power, but not love.

There is no love left in her now.

"Come to me, Ginevra," he whispers as he kisses her, molds his body against her. Removes her clothing, piece by piece. Kisses his way down her body.

Out the window, Hogwarts is on fire. The Mark is in the sky.

She knows there will be bodies on the ground. She knows their blood is on her hands.

"Come to me, Ginevra. Come to me. Come to me."

And she smiles.

--

she's been everybody else's girl
maybe one day she'll be her own
everybody else's girl
maybe one day she'll be her own

--

Fin.