Focus // The Lines Challenge
Author: Me, _trademark
Title: Cursed
Challenge: Title and Poet: Voodoo Girl by Tim Burton
Verse: But she knows she has a curse on her, / a curse she cannot win. / For if someone gets / too close to her, / the pins stick farther in.
Summary: Sometimes wounds don't always heal, and sometimes you can't have everything you want;;;not your average H/G fic.
Rating: PG13, only for one curse word, just in case
Genre: Angst
Word Count (optional): 1,371
Notes/Warnings: None. :) Enjoy!
Cursed.
One of the most tragic words in the English language. Worse than bad luck, or misfortune, for being cursed meant forever. It held sorrow, and a longing for something that could never be. Cursed. Cursed.
Ginny stepped out into the garden, shrugging off her coat as she did so; it was summer, and although a strong breeze was blowing past her the night was still quite warm. Her robes, emblazed with the Gryffindor seal, were being mercilessly whipped around her ankles. She knew it was silly to continue to wear the school robes, especially since term ended two days ago, but she couldn't bring herself to take them off. They represented a part of her she couldn't leave behind. Not yet, anyway.
She walked across the flowerbeds, heading to the rickety shed that was on the side of the house. Pulling out her wand, Ginny quickly unlocked the door and grabbed a broom, Underage Restrictions be damned. No one would notice, anyway; the Ministry of Magic was practically in ruins. Everything was chaotic, and her father was having to do most of the work. He had been coming home late every night for the past few weeks, keeping her mother sick with worry. People like Arthur, who had been holding positions in obscure departments, now suddenly had to take the responsibility of much larger roles. Voldemort had been controlling almost everyone who held a position of power- a few were under cover Death Eaters.
Ginny shivered, suddenly, thinking about the black hoods that had unflinchingly stolen and tortured her last summer; they had been searching for Harry, desperate for information.
Little Ginevra Weasley...the Dark Lord remembers you. Oh yes, he told us all about you, girl. You cannot win against him again. Tell us where Harry is hiding! Or will we have to force the information out ourselves?
When she had refused, they pulled their wands. Hours of torture hadn’t worked; becoming frustrated, they turned to humiliation instead. Putting her under Imperius, they made her touch herself as well as some of the men who had "been so desperate they didn’t mind she was a Weasley." At least, that’s what they said when they were in trial.
Ginny blinked, and realized she was shaking. She leaned on the shed door for support, not trusting herself to walk. After regaining her breath, she stumbled down the hill that led away from the Burrow, to a small lake near the house. She always liked this lake, growing up. It held fond memories from her childhood- fishing with Ron, swimming with Charlie. Whenever Ginny needed to seek solace, it could usually be found here.
It was a beautiful night, a half moon filling the sky and reflecting onto the water. In a time before she might've stopped and marveled at the sight, but she didn't find anything beautiful anymore. Casting a sigh, she set off on the broom, flying high into the air and over most of the trees. Letting her mind drift back to her seventh birthday; Ginny remembers receiving a doll from her mother. "This can be your Prince Charming, " Molly whispered in her ear. The doll was beautiful; he had dark hair and eyes, strong, tall, and handsome. It wasn't enchanted, those were far too expensive, but she loved it all the same. She would fantasize meeting a boy like the doll, sometimes for hours.
The summer after her first year at Hogwarts, however, Ginny had burned it, throwing it into the fire when the living room was empty. It reminded her too much of a boy she had met that year. She cried with a painful innocence all girls that age have, and made a promise to stop playing with dolls.
Tom. It was so strange to think he was gone. Really gone. It's almost as though she didn't dare believe it; watching Harry cast the spell that had destroyed the Dark Lord for good was...surreal. The moments after the defeat of Voldemort were hazy to Ginny, as though she experienced them while in a dream. She remembers her father hugging her, Ron finally kissing Hermione. She was the only one who saw Harry quietly retreat back towards Hagrid's cottage; he was so good at going slipping away unnoticed. She remembers following him, and hugging him like she had wanted to for six years. She remembers him collapsing into her embrace, almost deflating in her arms.
It's done, Ginny, he had said. It's finally over.
Why was she thinking of him? Isn't that the reason why she had left the house in the first place? Ginny couldn't bear to be in the same room as him anymore. With his glances, his shy smiles, his dark eyes. Damn those eyes. They were so green, so inescapable. It almost felt like they were watching her now. She pulled down into a steep dive, coming up a inches from the water. The sound of applause suddenly reached her ears and Ginny turned the broom sharply toward the noise.
Harry was sitting on the banks of the lake, a few yards from where she stood moments before. He was smiling brilliantly at her and continued clapping. She let herself suspend in mid air for a moment, let herself feel the blood rush to her head. She wished she had a glass of water. Realizing he expected her to come down to him, she landed and gave a wary smile.
"I...thanks, Harry. I didn't know anyone was watching."
He blushed. "Oh, er, I didn't mean to scare you or anything. I just saw you walk out and wondered where you were going."
Damn. She thought she was being discreet.
"Yeah, just, you know, with Mum fussing about everyone..."
"Oh, ha ha, yeah."
An awkward silence filled the space between them and Ginny looked at the ground. Things had been so strained, lately. He was finally showing interest in her, that much she knew. Hermione was positively ecstatic about it, as was Ron and the rest of her family. Her father had actually given his blessing last night; he obviously thought Ginny was just as excited as everyone else.
Ginny, I want you to know that I love you very much. I realize you're a young woman now, but know you'll always be Daddy's Little Girl. I always said I wanted the best boy in England for my girl, and Harry is as good as they come.
Harry’s voice broke the silence. "Ginny, I, uh..." he cleared his throat, and she could see his Adam's Apple moving. "I was just wondering if maybe this Saturday...England is playing Italy, and it should be a very good match, I know you love Quidditch, and Ron gave me two tickets, and maybe you would go with me?"
She didn’t anticipate the pain these words would bring. She was certainly expecting this moment to come, but not so soon. And Harry looked so earnest and…and a bit sure of himself. It was almost as though everyone expected her to fall into the hero’s arms. She couldn’t blame them, though; she had openly shown her affection for him- in a sometimes humiliating way. Ginny still cringed when she thought about the Valentine she sent him, in her first year.
It wasn’t fair, none of this was. She knew how her fairy tale was supposed to go; she would be whisked away by the knight in shining armor, they would have ten kids and live happily ever after. But this isn’t a fairy tale; this is real, in a world where some pain stays with you forever.
"Harry, I...I can’t."
His eyebrows shot together. "What? Why?"
"I’m with someone else."
He turned bright red. "Ginny, I didn’t know! I’m so sorry. I...I feel like such an arse."
"No, no it’s not your fault. But, I- thanks, though. For the offer."
She nodded at him and turned back to the house.
Halfway up the hill, Ginny heard him speak behind her. "Er, Ginny, who? I won’t...I won’t tell anyone or anything."
She didn’t turn around.
"He...His name is Tom."
And walking back up the path, Ginny felt herself begin to crumble and she did something she hadn't done in years.
She cried.
Title: Cursed
Challenge: Title and Poet: Voodoo Girl by Tim Burton
Verse: But she knows she has a curse on her, / a curse she cannot win. / For if someone gets / too close to her, / the pins stick farther in.
Summary: Sometimes wounds don't always heal, and sometimes you can't have everything you want;;;not your average H/G fic.
Rating: PG13, only for one curse word, just in case
Genre: Angst
Word Count (optional): 1,371
Notes/Warnings: None. :) Enjoy!
Cursed.
One of the most tragic words in the English language. Worse than bad luck, or misfortune, for being cursed meant forever. It held sorrow, and a longing for something that could never be. Cursed. Cursed.
Ginny stepped out into the garden, shrugging off her coat as she did so; it was summer, and although a strong breeze was blowing past her the night was still quite warm. Her robes, emblazed with the Gryffindor seal, were being mercilessly whipped around her ankles. She knew it was silly to continue to wear the school robes, especially since term ended two days ago, but she couldn't bring herself to take them off. They represented a part of her she couldn't leave behind. Not yet, anyway.
She walked across the flowerbeds, heading to the rickety shed that was on the side of the house. Pulling out her wand, Ginny quickly unlocked the door and grabbed a broom, Underage Restrictions be damned. No one would notice, anyway; the Ministry of Magic was practically in ruins. Everything was chaotic, and her father was having to do most of the work. He had been coming home late every night for the past few weeks, keeping her mother sick with worry. People like Arthur, who had been holding positions in obscure departments, now suddenly had to take the responsibility of much larger roles. Voldemort had been controlling almost everyone who held a position of power- a few were under cover Death Eaters.
Ginny shivered, suddenly, thinking about the black hoods that had unflinchingly stolen and tortured her last summer; they had been searching for Harry, desperate for information.
Little Ginevra Weasley...the Dark Lord remembers you. Oh yes, he told us all about you, girl. You cannot win against him again. Tell us where Harry is hiding! Or will we have to force the information out ourselves?
When she had refused, they pulled their wands. Hours of torture hadn’t worked; becoming frustrated, they turned to humiliation instead. Putting her under Imperius, they made her touch herself as well as some of the men who had "been so desperate they didn’t mind she was a Weasley." At least, that’s what they said when they were in trial.
Ginny blinked, and realized she was shaking. She leaned on the shed door for support, not trusting herself to walk. After regaining her breath, she stumbled down the hill that led away from the Burrow, to a small lake near the house. She always liked this lake, growing up. It held fond memories from her childhood- fishing with Ron, swimming with Charlie. Whenever Ginny needed to seek solace, it could usually be found here.
It was a beautiful night, a half moon filling the sky and reflecting onto the water. In a time before she might've stopped and marveled at the sight, but she didn't find anything beautiful anymore. Casting a sigh, she set off on the broom, flying high into the air and over most of the trees. Letting her mind drift back to her seventh birthday; Ginny remembers receiving a doll from her mother. "This can be your Prince Charming, " Molly whispered in her ear. The doll was beautiful; he had dark hair and eyes, strong, tall, and handsome. It wasn't enchanted, those were far too expensive, but she loved it all the same. She would fantasize meeting a boy like the doll, sometimes for hours.
The summer after her first year at Hogwarts, however, Ginny had burned it, throwing it into the fire when the living room was empty. It reminded her too much of a boy she had met that year. She cried with a painful innocence all girls that age have, and made a promise to stop playing with dolls.
Tom. It was so strange to think he was gone. Really gone. It's almost as though she didn't dare believe it; watching Harry cast the spell that had destroyed the Dark Lord for good was...surreal. The moments after the defeat of Voldemort were hazy to Ginny, as though she experienced them while in a dream. She remembers her father hugging her, Ron finally kissing Hermione. She was the only one who saw Harry quietly retreat back towards Hagrid's cottage; he was so good at going slipping away unnoticed. She remembers following him, and hugging him like she had wanted to for six years. She remembers him collapsing into her embrace, almost deflating in her arms.
It's done, Ginny, he had said. It's finally over.
Why was she thinking of him? Isn't that the reason why she had left the house in the first place? Ginny couldn't bear to be in the same room as him anymore. With his glances, his shy smiles, his dark eyes. Damn those eyes. They were so green, so inescapable. It almost felt like they were watching her now. She pulled down into a steep dive, coming up a inches from the water. The sound of applause suddenly reached her ears and Ginny turned the broom sharply toward the noise.
Harry was sitting on the banks of the lake, a few yards from where she stood moments before. He was smiling brilliantly at her and continued clapping. She let herself suspend in mid air for a moment, let herself feel the blood rush to her head. She wished she had a glass of water. Realizing he expected her to come down to him, she landed and gave a wary smile.
"I...thanks, Harry. I didn't know anyone was watching."
He blushed. "Oh, er, I didn't mean to scare you or anything. I just saw you walk out and wondered where you were going."
Damn. She thought she was being discreet.
"Yeah, just, you know, with Mum fussing about everyone..."
"Oh, ha ha, yeah."
An awkward silence filled the space between them and Ginny looked at the ground. Things had been so strained, lately. He was finally showing interest in her, that much she knew. Hermione was positively ecstatic about it, as was Ron and the rest of her family. Her father had actually given his blessing last night; he obviously thought Ginny was just as excited as everyone else.
Ginny, I want you to know that I love you very much. I realize you're a young woman now, but know you'll always be Daddy's Little Girl. I always said I wanted the best boy in England for my girl, and Harry is as good as they come.
Harry’s voice broke the silence. "Ginny, I, uh..." he cleared his throat, and she could see his Adam's Apple moving. "I was just wondering if maybe this Saturday...England is playing Italy, and it should be a very good match, I know you love Quidditch, and Ron gave me two tickets, and maybe you would go with me?"
She didn’t anticipate the pain these words would bring. She was certainly expecting this moment to come, but not so soon. And Harry looked so earnest and…and a bit sure of himself. It was almost as though everyone expected her to fall into the hero’s arms. She couldn’t blame them, though; she had openly shown her affection for him- in a sometimes humiliating way. Ginny still cringed when she thought about the Valentine she sent him, in her first year.
It wasn’t fair, none of this was. She knew how her fairy tale was supposed to go; she would be whisked away by the knight in shining armor, they would have ten kids and live happily ever after. But this isn’t a fairy tale; this is real, in a world where some pain stays with you forever.
"Harry, I...I can’t."
His eyebrows shot together. "What? Why?"
"I’m with someone else."
He turned bright red. "Ginny, I didn’t know! I’m so sorry. I...I feel like such an arse."
"No, no it’s not your fault. But, I- thanks, though. For the offer."
She nodded at him and turned back to the house.
Halfway up the hill, Ginny heard him speak behind her. "Er, Ginny, who? I won’t...I won’t tell anyone or anything."
She didn’t turn around.
"He...His name is Tom."
And walking back up the path, Ginny felt herself begin to crumble and she did something she hadn't done in years.
She cried.