Need
Title: Need
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: I guess you could say Ginny/Harry...
Words: 610
A/N: Written for the Ginny Weasley Ficlet Challenge
I’ll try to convince myself that I don’t need this, but its useless. Every part of my being
knows I cannot go on like this; lost like this. What I really need is him, but he’s gone, and
so should I be. If only life were so simple.
My last glimpse of Harry was that bleak December morning just before the Christmas holidays
of our 6th year. Rain fell heavily across the grounds obscuring my view of the Quidditch
game. I remember it was Slytherin versus Gryffindor and Harry was doing a splendid job of
keeping arrogant, cocky Malfoy away from the snitch. And then everything changed as hundreds
of Death Eaters descended on the pitch like a plague, curses flying everywhere. Those closest
to Voldemorts minions were the first to die from the sordid green hue of the Killing Curse.
I wanted to help, but I was held in my seat like glue watching Harry. A green robed figure
was ascending to meet Harry above the stands, wand outstretched in his bony, clawed hand. I
hadnt known then, but this was the day of reckoning. The day Voldemort would rise to
ultimate power. It was all so simple, one carefully placed hex to boil the blood and another
to kill the Boy-Who-Lived.
I heard his gut-wrenching screams and watch as he slid off his broom, seeming to float in
mid air for one glorious moment before plumetting to the cold, unforgiving ground. It took
only moments for me to realise the screams were also coming from me. Somehow, Id managed to
make my way to the edge of the pitch, and ran. I could do nothing anyway, Harry was gone.
It is now six months later and I am writing this from a small, desolate cottage that once
belonged to my grandfather. The thatched roof is falling in, in several places and the once-
white walls are blackened with age old dirt. Spots of brown tinge the thread-bare carpet; as
a reminder of the pain this place has caused. The one candle I use to write this is almost
gone, but that doesn’t matter.
I cant see how I can go on like this, alone in the world. Alone and most probably hated for
running. But I couldn’t stand it, I couldn’t stand to see Harry gone. Just like that, and my
life was ruined. I needed him, even if he couldn’t see it. My knight in shining armor who
rescued me from the clutches of Tom Riddle in my first year, later the one who held me as I
cried for Percy. Without Harry to guide me, I cannot go on.
So you see Mother, Father, Fred and George, Ron, Bill and Charlie... I must do this for my
own sanity and for Harry. I can only wonder what your thinking, but you cant know what Im
going through. I have a piece of Harry with me, you see, as a reminder of just how I feel,
and how I am here and he is not. Enough. I must end this. Goodbye my family, I hope yours is
a better life than mine.
-Love,
Your Darling Daughter, Ginny.
And as the last of the candles flame began to dim, Ginny Weasley took up the jewel encrusted
dagger into a small hand. She marveled for a moment at the beauty of such a thing, softly
curved blade coming to a point sharper than that of a lions fang, glinting wickedly with the
candles shuddering flame. Such a trivial thing it was, she thought, and laughed as she
drove the blade into her already bleeding heart, finally fulfilling her need.
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: I guess you could say Ginny/Harry...
Words: 610
A/N: Written for the Ginny Weasley Ficlet Challenge
I’ll try to convince myself that I don’t need this, but its useless. Every part of my being
knows I cannot go on like this; lost like this. What I really need is him, but he’s gone, and
so should I be. If only life were so simple.
My last glimpse of Harry was that bleak December morning just before the Christmas holidays
of our 6th year. Rain fell heavily across the grounds obscuring my view of the Quidditch
game. I remember it was Slytherin versus Gryffindor and Harry was doing a splendid job of
keeping arrogant, cocky Malfoy away from the snitch. And then everything changed as hundreds
of Death Eaters descended on the pitch like a plague, curses flying everywhere. Those closest
to Voldemorts minions were the first to die from the sordid green hue of the Killing Curse.
I wanted to help, but I was held in my seat like glue watching Harry. A green robed figure
was ascending to meet Harry above the stands, wand outstretched in his bony, clawed hand. I
hadnt known then, but this was the day of reckoning. The day Voldemort would rise to
ultimate power. It was all so simple, one carefully placed hex to boil the blood and another
to kill the Boy-Who-Lived.
I heard his gut-wrenching screams and watch as he slid off his broom, seeming to float in
mid air for one glorious moment before plumetting to the cold, unforgiving ground. It took
only moments for me to realise the screams were also coming from me. Somehow, Id managed to
make my way to the edge of the pitch, and ran. I could do nothing anyway, Harry was gone.
It is now six months later and I am writing this from a small, desolate cottage that once
belonged to my grandfather. The thatched roof is falling in, in several places and the once-
white walls are blackened with age old dirt. Spots of brown tinge the thread-bare carpet; as
a reminder of the pain this place has caused. The one candle I use to write this is almost
gone, but that doesn’t matter.
I cant see how I can go on like this, alone in the world. Alone and most probably hated for
running. But I couldn’t stand it, I couldn’t stand to see Harry gone. Just like that, and my
life was ruined. I needed him, even if he couldn’t see it. My knight in shining armor who
rescued me from the clutches of Tom Riddle in my first year, later the one who held me as I
cried for Percy. Without Harry to guide me, I cannot go on.
So you see Mother, Father, Fred and George, Ron, Bill and Charlie... I must do this for my
own sanity and for Harry. I can only wonder what your thinking, but you cant know what Im
going through. I have a piece of Harry with me, you see, as a reminder of just how I feel,
and how I am here and he is not. Enough. I must end this. Goodbye my family, I hope yours is
a better life than mine.
-Love,
Your Darling Daughter, Ginny.
And as the last of the candles flame began to dim, Ginny Weasley took up the jewel encrusted
dagger into a small hand. She marveled for a moment at the beauty of such a thing, softly
curved blade coming to a point sharper than that of a lions fang, glinting wickedly with the
candles shuddering flame. Such a trivial thing it was, she thought, and laughed as she
drove the blade into her already bleeding heart, finally fulfilling her need.