Legacy of Misuse

Ginny contemplates the bruise on her arm and doesn't say anything. What's there to say? She's used to bruises. Bites and scratches, too. She stares at the ceiling and whistles carelessly, a tune she remembers from long ago. But she doesn't remember the name.

Finally, she is dismissed, the Headmaster left shaking his head and clearing his glasses, and she goes back to the Gryffindor common room and up to her dormitory. None of the other girls are there - they tend to avoid her, only sleeping in the dormitory and staying away from it during all other hours. She falls on her bed and stares at the red velvet canopy overhead, wondering if the sky is ever red.

She can't sleep. She gets up, straightens her skirt and takes a look in the mirror. Same old Ginny Weasley, red hair, freckles and all. Running a hand through her curls absentmindedly, she leaves the dormitory and goes down to the common room. Ron is there with Harry and Hermione, but he avoids her gaze, talking and laughing loudly to cover up the fact that she knows he knows. She leaves the common room.

Slowly, she walks down the hall, not knowing where she was headed and not caring, either. Her old patent leather shoes pad softly on the cold stone floor, and she slips through the evening shadows like a little cat, all fire and darkness. She thinks, thinks about everything and then nothing at all, and she just can't put her finger on the thought. It's all for naught, anyway, since all the thoughts are knocked out of her head when she is slammed into a wall by a strong, wiry arm.

She looks up and it's Pansy, standing over her with a sneer twisting her pale face. Her features, pretty in a particular way, are screwed up in disgust. Ginny swallows and steps away from the wall, but Pansy grabs her slender throat and her long, thin fingers push Ginny back against the cold rock. So Ginny moves back obediently, her eyes half-lidded.

"Where the hell were you, little pet?" hisses Pansy. Ginny struggles to speak, to make her throat work, but Pansy's grip is too tight and she can't get the air for words. Pansy realizes this and relaxes her hold, but only a little. Ginny swallows compulsively.

"Potions," she whispers. "Detention."

"For what?" Pansy sneers. "What has the perfect little Gryffindor done now?"

"I was late to class."

"So he gave you detention?"

"Yes." The word is less than a whisper, barely audible.

"Why didn't you let me know beforehand?"

"Forgot."

Pansy backhands her viciously, and Ginny's face slams into the wall. She feels like her cheekbone is splintered, but, of course, it's nothing, just another bruise to wear like a gift, a token from a lover. Which it is, she supposes, is the truth. No one else will have her, and she needs love, like a flower needs the sun.

"I'm sorry," she says softly. Pansy's mouth twists into a wry grimace.

"No, you're not," she says. Denying, always denying. Pansy always denies love, even when it's freely offered. Ginny doesn't understand what Pansy wants or what Pansy needs, so she stopped trying to give it to her.

"Alright. I'm not sorry, then."

Pansy smirks. "Fine." She releases Ginny's throat, and air floods her lungs, painfully expanding her ribcage. Ginny gasps and falls to the floor, hands clutching at her throat, struggling for air and at the same time, to relieve the pain. Pansy watches, one pale eyebrow raised in slight amusement, then turns around and walks away. Ginny doesn't stop her.

After a while, after the click of Pansy's heels fades away, Ginny stands up and goes back to the Gryffindor common room. She doesn't think about the stares she'll be getting, with a fresh bruise spreading purple across her cheek. She walks up the staircase, mumbles the password absentmindedly and goes straight up to her dormitory. It is still empty, so she lies down on the bed, curls up into a little ball and closes her eyes. She doesn't sleep.

She thinks.

She thinks about everything that's happened in the past few years. She thinks back to her first year and Tom Marvolo Riddle, back to third year and the Yule Ball, back to fifth year and the relationship between Hermione and Harry. She thinks about how she used to hero-worship Harry, almost idolize him, and how in later years, it turned into a crush. She would fall asleep at night wishing that it were she holding Harry's hand and kissing Harry's lips, not Hermione. But her wishes never came true, and she never really expected them to. They were just that, wishes.

Her biggest wish was for a kiss.

A simple kiss, a brush of lips, an escaping breath, a shy smile - she had seen Harry and Hermione exchange all of those, and more than life itself, she wanted to experience it for herself. A true romantic at heart, Ginny just wanted to love and to be loved, and she couldn't figure out why she couldn't get her wish. But after days spent watching the couple and sleepless nights, she stopped wishing.

That was when Pansy snared her. A young girl, flighty and vulnerable, is easy prey for anyone who wags a finger, and Ginny, disillusioned and on the rebound, followed Pansy's call dutifully.

At first, it was like a dream, gentle kisses and soft whispers, but it began to get bad. Pansy wanted her to wait on her, hand and foot, to always be there at her beck and call, to do what she was told unquestioningly. Ginny went with it at first, but then, Pansy began to get even more demanding. Ginny's marks began to drop, she was losing sleep and more and more bruises began to appear on her pale skin.

People began to notice. Some people ignored the changes, but some became concerned. Ron was worried at first, but, after Ginny's repeated reassurances that she was fine, he left her alone, and then began to ignore her, worried and embarrassed for his sister. Professor Dumbledore, on the other hand, did not ignore her. When he could stand it no longer, he called her to talk to her, but she said nothing. He didn't know what to do, she wouldn't allow anyone to do anything and the abuse goes on.

A quiet knock on the dormitory door snaps her out of her reverie. She sits up, hugging herself, and calls out permission. She wonders who it can be - her roommates don't knock, and no one comes just to talk anymore.

The door opens and Harry walks in tentatively, looking around the room until his eyes stop and focus on her. Slowly, he approaches her, studying the spreading bruise on her cheek. She sits still, watching him calmly. Her crush on him has passed, leaving a numb sensation in its wake, and looking at him, once again she feels nothing.

He sits down on the bed next to her. Surprisingly, she doesn't move away. He touches her bruise lightly. It doesn't hurt, but she winces anyway, and he lowers his hand with a hurried apology. She nods and looks down at the floor.

"Ginny, what's going on?"

"What do you mean?" she looks up at him, frowning, her eyebrows creasing slightly.

"You know what I mean." His eyes on the bruise, it's obvious, but she plays dumb.

"Nothing. Nothing's going on, Harry. Don't worry about me."

"You're my best friend's little sister. I can't help worrying. Are you alright?"

She shrugs, and she looks so young sitting there with her arms around herself, so little and lost, that he can't take it any longer and draws her into a hug, pulling her close. She lets him and rests her head against his chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart. It's comforting, to be so close to another person's warmth. Pansy was always so cold. She rubs her face against his robes, catlike, and quirks a little smile, unseen.

"All I wished for was a kiss," she whispers.