𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆

Part 11

Fuck you, Harry Potter

To tell you the truth I prefer the worst of you
Too bad you had to have a better half
He's not really my type, but I think you two are forever
I hate to say it, but you're perfect together
So fuck you, and your untouchable face
Fuck you for existing in the first place
And who am I that I should be dying for your touch
Who am I? I bet you can't even tell me that much.

-- ani difranco, Untouchable Face

Ginny Weasley sat in the coffee shop, her hands clutching her steaming mug, a cigarette burned nearly to the filter dangling between her fingers. She had been rather on the cantankerous side for nearly two weeks now, and her co-workers at Miss Mandy's Better Robes and Accessories had taken to sending her out for coffee straight away in the morning rather than trying to keep her withering glares away from the patrons. She grumbled. How many times, she wondered, can one STUPID fellow break my heart? How many times?

She had been in the north for a few years after she graduated from Hogwarts. Her mother always thought she would make a good teacher, and, having no particular goals of her own, she had found a pleasant day school in Leath that had advertised in the Daily Prophet . She had spent nearly two years hunched over desperate seven-year-olds, struggling over their primers, stuttering and squinting as if that might help them understand. It had been dreadfully boring. Even now, more than a year later, she still woke up smelling that sticky floor wax, milky children, rancid worms and chalk dust. It had taken two years in Leath for her to realize that she did not ever, ever, want children.

She managed to pull one last drag out of her cigarette and butted it out absently on the table, entirely missing the ashtray. She sighed out smoke, closing her eyes. She still couldn't believe it. When she had arrived London, depressed and angry and bitter from her stint in Leath, the only spot of brightness she had had been remembering Harry. Oh, it was no secret that she fancied him. She had been a bit of a twit in her first year when she had insisted on sending him a valentine which he clearly didn't appreciate, and ever since she had been tagged; Ginny Weasley, the Girl Who's In Love With the Boy Who Lived. Well, sure. That's easy enough, isn't it. But she wasn't the only one. And for God's sake, that wasn't all she was.

She pulled out a fresh pack of cigarettes from her pocket, tore off the plastic wrap, her hands only ceasing their shake when she felt that first taste of smoke in her mouth. Or is it all that I am? Here I am, twenty-two years old, chain smoking and grumbling because the boy I fell in love with when I was ten still doesn't love me. No. She thought primly. It's only chain smoking if you light the next cig off the last. I at least butt them out.

Her current bout of depression was caused by that display at Harry's party. For God's sake. When Ginny had returned from Leath, Harry had been in the denouement of a relationship with some mousy little thing (Linda? Lydia?) Seamus had introduced him too. She was just dreadful. Ginny had done her best to be pleasant on the one occasion they had met, which had been at one of those crazy parties Seamus so enjoyed throwing. Ginny had re-dyed her hair only that morning (she simply refused to walk around like a walking advertisement of her parentage, and had been dyeing it black for more than a year at that point), and bought an understated yet kicky outfit to wear. Being introduced to Harry's girlfriend had certainly put a damper on her evening and her mood, but this girl completely stole her pouty and disappointed thunder. She had been mopey and awkward, with a gin and tonic constantly attached to her hand. Ginny was fairly sure Linda was drunk before she even got to Seamus' flat, which is saying a lot, given how much everyone always drank at his parties. Even the non-alcoholic punch was spiked. Being the only two women at the party, Linda had insisted on sticking close to Ginny, but would not be entertaining, and would only woodenly accept Ginny's attempts to be charming. Within about three weeks from that party, Harry had dumped her. Ginny'd felt a revisited bout of hope.