Sins 10.2
Here we are with 10.2, again unbeta'd. Once the chapter is completed I'll will get it beta'd and posted at PhoenixSong.
It was a crisp, October morning with clear blue skies. There was a hint of frost in the air that gave freshness to the air and an extra crunch to the gravel beneath her feet. It was the type of morning that would normally have made Ginny feel glad to be alive, but not this morning.
Since the day that Potter had abandoned her in the school entrance hall, she had learned to loath the merest mention of the phrase 'Hogsmeade Weekend'.
How foolish she now appeared enthusing about the joys of visiting Hogsmeade when sat on the summer lawn by the lake with Potter. Until that episode in her life, trips to Hogsmeade had been perfunctory, with no more time spent in its environs than it took to acquire the necessary school supplies. In the heady atmosphere of Potter's presence, the thought of walking arm in arm with Harry through the normally dull village had entranced her.
Now, the whole visit had all the appeal of repairing teeth the Muggle way.
She looked back at the castle, shielding her eyes against the low sun surveying the damage resulting from Potter's battle. It was far more extensive than she had first believed, and although it had been repaired, she could see the new slabs on the floor as clearly as if they were labelled as such.
Those few details that had emerged of the fight and could be confirmed claimed that towards the end Potter had caused the floor itself to rise up against his attackers. Such a display of power both shocked and pleased her and gave her hope that even though they had said their goodbyes, he would return and revenge the wrong that had been done to him.
For all their boasting, those who had been against Potter couldn't deny that they had waited until he was at his weakest before attacking and then in such superior numbers that the outcome was never really in doubt. That it had ended such a close run thing was seized upon by those who, whilst far from admirers of Potter, had nonetheless wanted a stick to beat the mainly Slytherin group that claimed the victory for themselves.
After Harry had left, the school was awash with Aurors questioning everyone, including herself, but in the end no one was arrested and life continued as before. All of which struck her as odd. Was it beyond the wit of the MLE to discover the perpetrators of such a public act of violence? Given the intelligence of most Aurors, she concluded that it was. Still, Potter's godfather surely would have kept the investigation going or had the discovery of the contract destroyed more than her relationship with Potter?
Of course, she was the one exception to the continuation of normality.
Life post-Potter had been both an eye opener and an annoyance. At first, she mourned his departure, longing for his touch regardless of what common sense or pureblood propriety demanded. And then, as the contract's power over her had begun to wane, a steely determination to wrest control of her life had taken over. It was a determination that had been severely tested in the month since his departure.
There were days that she thought that she would have been better accepting the contract as she struggled with the consequences of being her own woman. On the worst days, faced with the gamut of emotions previously denied to her, she had found herself longing for the simplicity of belonging to Potter. And when that longing became unbearable it was Potter's own words that pulled her back from the brink:
'You are free to live and love according to your desires.'
Fine words Potter, but why do your still stalk my thoughts and dreams?
Taking a deep breath, she trudged across the gravel searching for the one person who perhaps despised this day more her, Argus Filch.
Filch was in his usual spot, his shoulders hunched and his expression grim; his whole demeanour suggested a man who believed that enjoyment was a sin and an unforgivable one at that. His familiar perch was one where, according to Hogwarts tradition, he had stood every Hogsmeade weekend since the beginning of time, scrutinising the parchment in his gnarled hand.
His quest? To ensure that any child, who had not returned the requisite parental permission slip, was denied the pleasures of the weekend. At his feet, and sniffing the air for potential miscreants, was Mrs Norris.
"Good morning, Mister Filch."
"Morning, Miss Weasley," he replied a rare smile gracing his face. "A bit nippy, but I dare say that things will warm up by lunchtime."
The caretaker's benevolent attitude towards her still confused her. It had begun immediately after Potter's departure and whereas the man was still as cantankerous as ever towards everyone else, he treated her with still unnerving pleasantness.
"Expecting any problems?"she asked as Mrs Norris rubbed up against her legs.
"No, well, nothing I can't handle. Isn't a trick they'll try that I haven't seen before."
"Well, I'll leave you to prepare in peace, Mister Filch," she said as she turned back to the castle. Pleased to have taken care of that chore she now had to face up to another; going to Hogsmeade with Neville Longbottom.
Since Potter's departure, the restrictions on members of the opposite sex being able to get close to her had vanished and she now found herself pursued by a number of boys all of whom thought they were Merlin's gift to women and none of whom she was remotely interested in.
Face it, Ginevra; no one is going to be able to compete with Harry Potter.
True as that was, it didn't stop it annoying her that he had made such a lasting impression on her. She may have enjoyed the time she spent in his arms, but no woman wanted to feel that a man had that degree of control over her, especially one that she would likely never see again.
But this morning Potter wasn't was annoying her; Neville Longbottom was. Longbottom was her boyfriend in name rather than in practise. She hadn't kissed him and only rarely did she allow him to even hold her hand. She had only agreed to go out with him because he was the only one she could stand to talk to for any period of time, that and the fact that he could be trusted to keep his hands to himself.
She spotted him sitting at the Gryffindor table talking to her brother and Hermione Granger. Not the most inspiring of crowds but better than Dean Thomas and his unnerving habit of happening upon her in the most obscure parts of the castle.
She managed a smile, before settling down beside him and grabbing a couple of pieces of toast. With a bit of luck she'd be able to make her excuses and go back to the castle around lunchtime. She'd put the story around that she had unfinished homework and needed to get that done so that Sunday would be free for Quidditch practise. It was, of course, a lie, but the thought of spending a full day with Neville filled her with dread.
It was a crisp, October morning with clear blue skies. There was a hint of frost in the air that gave freshness to the air and an extra crunch to the gravel beneath her feet. It was the type of morning that would normally have made Ginny feel glad to be alive, but not this morning.
Since the day that Potter had abandoned her in the school entrance hall, she had learned to loath the merest mention of the phrase 'Hogsmeade Weekend'.
How foolish she now appeared enthusing about the joys of visiting Hogsmeade when sat on the summer lawn by the lake with Potter. Until that episode in her life, trips to Hogsmeade had been perfunctory, with no more time spent in its environs than it took to acquire the necessary school supplies. In the heady atmosphere of Potter's presence, the thought of walking arm in arm with Harry through the normally dull village had entranced her.
Now, the whole visit had all the appeal of repairing teeth the Muggle way.
She looked back at the castle, shielding her eyes against the low sun surveying the damage resulting from Potter's battle. It was far more extensive than she had first believed, and although it had been repaired, she could see the new slabs on the floor as clearly as if they were labelled as such.
Those few details that had emerged of the fight and could be confirmed claimed that towards the end Potter had caused the floor itself to rise up against his attackers. Such a display of power both shocked and pleased her and gave her hope that even though they had said their goodbyes, he would return and revenge the wrong that had been done to him.
For all their boasting, those who had been against Potter couldn't deny that they had waited until he was at his weakest before attacking and then in such superior numbers that the outcome was never really in doubt. That it had ended such a close run thing was seized upon by those who, whilst far from admirers of Potter, had nonetheless wanted a stick to beat the mainly Slytherin group that claimed the victory for themselves.
After Harry had left, the school was awash with Aurors questioning everyone, including herself, but in the end no one was arrested and life continued as before. All of which struck her as odd. Was it beyond the wit of the MLE to discover the perpetrators of such a public act of violence? Given the intelligence of most Aurors, she concluded that it was. Still, Potter's godfather surely would have kept the investigation going or had the discovery of the contract destroyed more than her relationship with Potter?
Of course, she was the one exception to the continuation of normality.
Life post-Potter had been both an eye opener and an annoyance. At first, she mourned his departure, longing for his touch regardless of what common sense or pureblood propriety demanded. And then, as the contract's power over her had begun to wane, a steely determination to wrest control of her life had taken over. It was a determination that had been severely tested in the month since his departure.
There were days that she thought that she would have been better accepting the contract as she struggled with the consequences of being her own woman. On the worst days, faced with the gamut of emotions previously denied to her, she had found herself longing for the simplicity of belonging to Potter. And when that longing became unbearable it was Potter's own words that pulled her back from the brink:
'You are free to live and love according to your desires.'
Fine words Potter, but why do your still stalk my thoughts and dreams?
Taking a deep breath, she trudged across the gravel searching for the one person who perhaps despised this day more her, Argus Filch.
Filch was in his usual spot, his shoulders hunched and his expression grim; his whole demeanour suggested a man who believed that enjoyment was a sin and an unforgivable one at that. His familiar perch was one where, according to Hogwarts tradition, he had stood every Hogsmeade weekend since the beginning of time, scrutinising the parchment in his gnarled hand.
His quest? To ensure that any child, who had not returned the requisite parental permission slip, was denied the pleasures of the weekend. At his feet, and sniffing the air for potential miscreants, was Mrs Norris.
"Good morning, Mister Filch."
"Morning, Miss Weasley," he replied a rare smile gracing his face. "A bit nippy, but I dare say that things will warm up by lunchtime."
The caretaker's benevolent attitude towards her still confused her. It had begun immediately after Potter's departure and whereas the man was still as cantankerous as ever towards everyone else, he treated her with still unnerving pleasantness.
"Expecting any problems?"she asked as Mrs Norris rubbed up against her legs.
"No, well, nothing I can't handle. Isn't a trick they'll try that I haven't seen before."
"Well, I'll leave you to prepare in peace, Mister Filch," she said as she turned back to the castle. Pleased to have taken care of that chore she now had to face up to another; going to Hogsmeade with Neville Longbottom.
Since Potter's departure, the restrictions on members of the opposite sex being able to get close to her had vanished and she now found herself pursued by a number of boys all of whom thought they were Merlin's gift to women and none of whom she was remotely interested in.
Face it, Ginevra; no one is going to be able to compete with Harry Potter.
True as that was, it didn't stop it annoying her that he had made such a lasting impression on her. She may have enjoyed the time she spent in his arms, but no woman wanted to feel that a man had that degree of control over her, especially one that she would likely never see again.
But this morning Potter wasn't was annoying her; Neville Longbottom was. Longbottom was her boyfriend in name rather than in practise. She hadn't kissed him and only rarely did she allow him to even hold her hand. She had only agreed to go out with him because he was the only one she could stand to talk to for any period of time, that and the fact that he could be trusted to keep his hands to himself.
She spotted him sitting at the Gryffindor table talking to her brother and Hermione Granger. Not the most inspiring of crowds but better than Dean Thomas and his unnerving habit of happening upon her in the most obscure parts of the castle.
She managed a smile, before settling down beside him and grabbing a couple of pieces of toast. With a bit of luck she'd be able to make her excuses and go back to the castle around lunchtime. She'd put the story around that she had unfinished homework and needed to get that done so that Sunday would be free for Quidditch practise. It was, of course, a lie, but the thought of spending a full day with Neville filled her with dread.