Pregnant. Me, Ginevra Weasley, a mother? How was that possible? I mean, I knew how it happened but…I could barely take care of myself! How in the name of Merlin's beard was I supposed to care for a baby?!
It had been two days since I'd sent the letter to Draco before the mess started. I knew that, upon reading it over many times, I sounded happier than I felt but I had sent it anyways in hopes that my feelings of, for lack of a better description, fear and unhappiness was just a fluke and would pass soon. And who was I to keep such a secret from him, the only man who I'd ever really loved, the man who would be hurt if I kept it from him?
I'd watched the sky for several hours, looking towards the path of the owl's flight. It was as blue as ever, not a cloud present. It must have been caused by the high hopes of the people left behind, the ones who hoped and prayed every day that their loved ones would return home.
When the owl came back later on that day he was empty clawed, causing my stomach to knot and twist so tight with grief that I had had to double over to ease the pain. The looming sadness that had enfolded my heart the moment Draco had disappeared from my sight once again flickered to life, bringing with it a spring of salty tears to my eyes. I told myself it was because Draco had not replied, for what other reason was there? I was with child. I should've been happy. Right?
But I couldn't be happy. Call me a horrible person, I dare say I could agree to it myself, but no matter how much I tried to convince myself that the small, still undeveloped life growing inside me was something to be happy about, I make myself feel it. I didn't cry for Draco's absence that day. I cried for myself.
Anger and resentment made like tentacles inside me, ensnaring my logical thought and slowly filling themselves in its place.
"I don't want you," I remember yelling at my still flat stomach in one fit of rage. "I hate you!"
And I did. I hated the thing inside me, despite its form of creation. I hated everything it stood for because Draco wasn't where he was supposed to be, at home, with me. I hated it because my biggest fear was that Draco wouldn't come home and that I would have to raise this child alone. I hated it because I had already begun to love its existence and I feared this attachment. It was insane reasoning but I couldn't stop myself from becoming consumed by it.
In the long, drawn out span of time over those two days of silence from Draco, I almost did loose my sense. I wandered around our home with hatred coursing through me, controlling my every thought. I didn't sleep. I rarely ate. I was running on raw emotion and my mind was beginning to betray me.
In the early morning of the third day I wandered into the kitchen, my rumbling stomach finally getting the better of me and forcing me to give in. I wanted a toasted cucumber and peanut butter sandwich, possibly the only thing that would have brought a little bit of comfort. I should have just let myself starve. It would've made things easier.
I was cutting the cucumber, waiting for the toast to finish, when the glint of the utensil in my hand caught my eye. For some reason, I had pulled a large carving knife; I hadn't done the dishes in about a week and that was one of the only clean knives I had left. Thoughts began cloud my brain, bringing up possibilities that I hadn't thought of before. I didn't want this baby. If I did it just right…
My hands began to tremble as I pushed the cucumber aside and my fingers curling to protectively cling to the knife of their own accord. I grabbed the nearest dish rag and pulled it along the metal, watching morning rays get caught and then shine off it when it was again exposed. It felt as if it was trying to bring me some solace in my desperate need for comfort.
'If I do this, I can end it,' I thought anxiously. 'I won't have to deal with this thing inside me. Draco wouldn't mind. Just as long as I'm safe and happy…'
It had only been two full days and I was already looking like I should be wrapped up somewhere in the basement of St. Mungo's. It was definitely a testament to how debilitating the mind could be under the right circumstances.
I reached inside my bath robe that I had worn since the day before, my fingers eagerly seeking the wooden rod concealed in the front pocket. Now, why I had decided on using the knife over the wand I later could not understand. But I had lost all sense of logic, my need for freedom from the thing I had thought to be wretched inside me clouding my senses like a blanket thrown over a light.
Placing my wand on the counter top, next to the abandoned cucumber, I grasped the hilt with both hands and aimed the gleaming metal tip against my stomach. I inhaled deeply. I closed my eyes. I …
"Ginny!"
A voice broke me out of my insanity, freeing my mind from the almost impenetrable hold of my insanity.
"Ginny stop!"
"Mum," I whispered, unable to open my eyes or even move for that matter. "Help me…"
The knife was ripped from my hands within seconds and I heard it crash against the wall opposite me. My mother's arms were wrapped tightly around me, catching me as I my legs gave out.
"Oh Ginny," she cooed as we both sunk to the floor. "It's all right. You're safe now."
With those words, I broke down. Wave upon wave of tears fell from my eyes, soaking mum's shirt front. She rocked me, there on the kitchen floor, like she had when I was little. She rocked me as I cried, holding me close so I wouldn't feel alone, never making any accusations or ask what the hell was wrong with me. Just being a mum to her distressed daughter.
I didn't know how long we sat there, me crumpled against her chest and sobbing so hard that I thought dishes would have shattered from the amount of emotion that was seeping out of me. To my surprise, I never found any dishes broken the next day.
"There, there," mum said over and over again. "It's all right. Let it all out…"
When the storm of tears finally receded and allowed my cheeks to dry, all I could think about was what Draco would think. I felt suddenly afraid. Would he be furious, coming home and expecting a pregnant wife only to see that that wife wasn't pregnant and she had done the deed of removing that pregnancy herself? It was the exact opposite to what I had been thinking before when the knife was still in my hands. How quickly opinions change when reason is put into play.
"Mum…" I choked out after a few moments of silence.
"Yes luv," she replied, concern and fear brimming the forced calm tone of her voice as she stroked my hair.
"Don't tell Draco…"
Author's note: Last chapter to edit is finally finished. And now I can move onto writing new ones. Yay!