𝔸𝕋𝕄𝕆𝕊ℙℍ𝔼ℝ𝔼

O

TW!
Self-harm (Very violent self-harm, I'll mark the beginning and the end with asterisks. Read at your own risk) 

With the boys gone and dinner dishes finished, I wiped my hands on the towel that next to the sink for that exact reason and turned around to where a still sulking Ginerva Weasley sat at my kitchen table. Harry had escaped downstairs to the basement to grab a bottle of wine at my suggestion and, now that I'm sitting here face-to-face with his ex, I wish I had been the one to go to the basement.

Clearing my throat, I slid into the seat I sat at during dinner, across from Ginerva. I made sure that James sat to my left and Teddy stayed on my left. Since Harry sat at the head of the table, James was also next to him.

After the war, I swore to never judge anyone without getting the know them first but...

Gods, I hated Ginerva Weasley.

All throughout dinner, she'd rudely turned down everything I offered her (except for one time when Harry snapped for her to 'take the damn breadstick' and when she obliged, I smiled at him). When James began crying because he dropped a bite of spaghetti, Ginerva rolled her eyes and huffed loudly, mumbling something along the lines of "demon baby" and "death-eater spawn" to which I discreetly threw a harsh stinging hex at her which resulted in her death-glaring at me and me looking sickeningly innocent. 

"Dray, does Sherry go well with pumpkin pie? I know you and Molly made some and-" I cut him off by nodding my head excitedly, grabbing at the bottle of white wine as a small child might grab at a toy in a store window. Harry chuckled and handed me the bottle before turning to Ginerva.

Ten minutes later found us all sitting around the table with a nice helping of homemade pumpkin pie (thank you, Molly Weasley, you're the best mother-in-law) and a nice sized glass of Sherry.

Although the wine was quite cheap, it had always been one of my favorites. Taking a long swig, I turned to the annoying red-head sitting at my table.

"Ok, you two have had your squabble, my turn to talk," I said, not leaving any room for argument as I sat my wine glass down and began talking, leaning my head on my hand, cradling my cheek.

"Why did you have to come here? Why couldn't you go to Weasley Central?" I heard Harry snort at my long-time nickname for The Burrow and Ginerva's brown eyes narrowed into slits.

"I don't have to explain anything to you, you Death Eater scum!" She fired back before taking a, somewhat harsh, bite of pumpkin pie and sinking back into her seat. I felt my stomach churning with a horrid burning I hadn't felt in years. I felt the stinging of tears behind my eyelids and suddenly felt the need to blink rapidly. My chest constricted tightly and I felt ready to faint. I shot up from my chair.

I hadn't been called something like that in almost seven years.

After seven years of visiting multiple mind-healers, dreamless sleep potions, tender and caring love from Harry, the happiness from Teddy, and a miracle baby, I was okay again.

Seven long years down the drain from three cruel words.

**SELF-HARM**

The day Harry and I began going out, it was national news that The Chosen One's girlfriend had disappeared, leaving only a note explaining that she "needed a break after fighting so hard". Harry found me in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, my arm streaming blood.

He's the only one to this day who knows what I did. I tried to cut the dark mark out of my arm.

**SELF-HARM OVER**

Everyone simply thought that long-sleeves were my style or that I didn't go swimming because I didn't know how. They didn't know the nitty-gritty details of my life.

I felt the blood rush out of my face and, for a short moment, thought I was about to sway out of my chair.

Death Eater Scum!

"Alright, that's enough, Ginny, you need to leave," And then Harry was there, his arms wrapping around me like a blanket of warmth, a safety net of muscles, holding me tight, promising silently that he'd never let me go. I basked in the warmth coming from his front, which was pressed against my backside. Ginerva- no, I've tried to be nice, she doesn't deserve to be called by her name. 

Weaslette turned her nose up and huffed. I was panting softly now, my knees feeling somewhat weak as I basically crushed all my weigh over Harry. He held me throughout it all, summoning Weaslette's suitcase wandlessly with a quiet whisper of an incantation I didn't hear because I couldn't hear anything over Weaslette's voice ringing in my ears.

Death Eater Scum!

"Get out," I mumbled, swaying dangerously now. Harry's hold on me simply tightened. Weaslette huffed once more before walking out of the kitchen, horrid red suitcase in her hand. Harry followed her, most likely to make sure she didn't try to destroy any of our wedding photos or something equally as immature.

A few moments later, I followed him. He stood at the door, trying desperately to get Weaslette to walk out of it. 

A chill of horror crept up my spine as everything began to go in slow motion. I could see it all happen as if it happened slowly.

The crease in Weaslette's shoes as she lifted herself onto her tip-toes, the puckering of her ugly pink lips, the widening of green-eyes, Harry trying to lean away.

And she kissed him square on the mouth.

A flare of something nasty found its way out of me and, before I could move or say anything, Weaslette was thrown into the back of the couch. Harry's eyes were wide as he wiped his lips vigorously with the back of his hand. I was breathing heavily.

Suddenly, my back crashed into something hard and I heard the faint sound of Harry screaming my name between yells to stop. A fist collided with my face, once, twice. A weight was lifted off of me.

My eyes fluttered closed and the hazy world turned dark grey, then black and the ringing of Harry screaming my name faded.