The Sugar Quill
Author: Tartan Faeries  Story: Something Never Meant To Be  Chapter: Default
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Something never meant to be, everything you meant to me, wake me when this punishment is done…

 

 Something never meant to be, everything you meant to me, wake me when this punishment is done…

 

 She sometimes wondered if it was ever going to stop hurting properly. The day would come, she thought, when she would wake up and things wouldn’t be as bad as they seemed the day before.

 

 But that still hadn’t happened. Granted, it had been barely a week since the whole episode had come to light in the Chamber itself, when Harry…Harry had saved her life,a fact she still couldn’t comprehend.

 

 She yearned to talk about her feelings, to explain properly through any medium how she felt. She remembered the wonderful, elating release of someone who understood her, without question and listened to everything. Then her stomach twisted, the familiar nausea was back and she curled up to soften the pain in her stomach at the thought of him.

 

Tom

 

She had built up a mental image of him during all their confidences. Taller than she, handsome, soft features that reminded her of another brother, one with whom she could share anything. In reality of course, he had been ink and paper – to Ginny’s knowledge at least. She bit her lip in a vain effort to keep the tears from falling again.

The worst bit was the missing him. The sense of loss that was irrational given the circumstances.

 

Ginny needed him. She needed what he represented, a true friend, more than ever right now.

 

The house was still as she sat there, cold in the kitchen, completely alone.

 

White noise. That was what the world was now. No substance, nothing to tear her away from the terrible ache inside her.

 

She felt so unconditionally stupid. A stupid little girl. That’s what he had called her, that’s what they all thought about her now. They could never understand, not truly, just what had drawn her into the trap.

 

Loneliness. Pure loneliness. The horrible feeling of being a misfit, not truly bonding with anyone. Another face in the crowd, another Weasley in the crowd at that. The confusing feelings she harboured inside herself for Harry, the awe she felt around him and the almost subconscious need to talk to him, to let him reveal himself to her. She buried her head in her hands, her palms growing wet with her tears as she wondered fervently what he thought of her now.

 

Minutes passed as Ginny heard something stir in the room opposite her. Wiping her eyes she stood and padded gently towards the stairs, pausing to look into the living room. She felt her stomach tug as her gaze fell on her father, leaning back in his armchair, a small tumbler of Ogden’s resting on the arm of the seat as he stared absently into space.

 

Ginny felt something she hadn’t felt for years - the urge to crawl into her fathers lap and cry there till there were no more tears and everything would be alright again as long as he hugged her for those precious moments. She stepped cautiously into the room and her fathers gaze snapped up. He regarded her almost sadly, smiling with dull eyes.

 

Suddenly, her feet took over and she half ran, half stumbled over to him and rested her head on his knees.

 

“I’m sorry Daddy,” she blurted out as her body began to rack with sobs once more. She felt her father tug at her arms and she let him pull her small form into his lap once again.

 

She buried her head into his shoulder and let her tears merge with the wool of her father’s very own Weasley jumper which she herself had helped to knit. It smelled comfortingly of home. He stroked her back gently and Ginny couldn’t help but sob harder. She’d brought so much shame to them, she was sure of that. Perhaps they didn’t want to tell her but she knew she had.

 

“Oh Ginny,” she heard her father say softly, his voice rumbling against her cheek.

 

She couldn’t speak. She didn’t think he wanted an answer.

 

After a long while, her sobs ceased. She sniffed slightly, hiccups, echoes of sobs gently rocking her chest.

 

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that she was five again. She started as her father began to sing something, something so quiet she wasn’t even sure he was singing it and something she couldn’t quite place at first. Then it clicked. (A tune she had loved when she was a toddler, that her dad would sing to her to persuade her to sleep, or at least try to. His little Ginny who loved life so much, she never wanted to sleep. Sleep meant less time with her family. Her family who babied her like nothing on earth.

 

She sighed softly and burrowed deeper, feeling drowsy for the first time in days. It was so warm there, in her fathers lap.

 

Arthur Weasley smiled softly as his daughter drifted off into sleep. He touched her hand that rested on his shoulder and remembered the first time one of those little fingers had wrapped round his own and gently squeezed.

 

His baby girl, his daughter, his darling…

 

It had been years since she’d come to him like this. He moved one arm out from under hers, gently, so not to wake her, and pushed his glasses to the end of his nose. He wiped at his eyes.

 

 After a moment he set his arm back where it had been. Quietly, he resumed his song, looking down at the mop of red hair that fanned out over his chest.

 

She smiled in her sleep. 

 

Song lyrics © Foo Fighters “The One”

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