Teenage Actor

Luna Lovegood-Weasley was old, old and tired. Time had been more of a burden, more of a trial, than any war she had encountered in her lifetime. Time had weakened her mind and destroyed her body, but at least she was still alive.

Sitting in a wooden rocking chair she swayed forward and backwards watching her great-grand children scrambling around the family living room. It seemed like only yesterday she watched Ron playing with their newborn son in that room, but it wasn't only yesterday, it was almost 65 years ago.

Had it really been that long?

Her granddaughter, Genevieve Finnigan, came rushing in to the room, attempting to collect her children. Moans of disappointment started to sound and Luna let out a chuckle.

“Genevieve, leave Liam and Alyson here. I'm sure Ronald and I can watch them,” Luna stated in a motherly tone, motioning the two young children over. Echoes of the word “pleeeeeeeeeease” were heard, directed at the reluctant mother, until Genevieve finally let out a sigh and conceded.

“Fine, but I expect to pick you up tomorrow morning, no exceptions,” A chorus of high-pitched yeas sounded and the children went back to their games. Genevieve made her way over to Luna and kneeled so they were about the same height.

“Gran, are you sure Grandpa and you can handle them? A group of five-year-old children are a handful and you are getting older,” The younger woman stated in a calm voice. Luna reached out and grabbed her hand, placing a kiss on the knuckles she shooed her granddaughter on her way.

She had raised over 17 children. She knew how it was done.

Later that night the sleepy children lay around the fire place warming their feet and roasting marshmallows. All was quiet until Rosalie Weasley spoke up.

“Gran, tell us a story,” She asked, oh so sweetly. The other children soon joined their cousin in the pleading, and Luna came up with an idea.

“Well this is a story about a princess, named Ginny, and a prince named Draco.

This story is called Teenage Actor.”

-->

Once upon a time…

The wizarding world was ravaged by attack. The methods fouler, the curses deadlier, and the stakes higher than any war preceding it. It was said to be the war to end all wars.

Per usual man had counted his chickens before they hatched and came up with a number several figures too high.

Later in history, when students were bored to death by the trivial facts of this war by a teacher like Professor Binns, they would wonder what was the big deal. Since the Second rise of Voldemort, wars still existed, and they had only gotten worse as time and technology advanced.

But for the sake of this story we will ignore all the events in history that have happened since the war ended. After all with the knowledge, and information I now possess, I would not only give a jaded version of the story, but also quite possibly miss the important points all together.

In order for you to get an accurate perception of time, please do well to remember, we are beginning in the year 1998, at the end of my fifth year at Hogwarts. You will also come to realize that this story is told from my point of view, after all I was the only one there from the beginning.

I was the only one who understood what was going on. The only person who felt the momentous change in the Earth's spin. I recorded all the facts so someone would be able to tell the story later on, with out speculation or inferring any of the wrong facts. I understood how big this was going to be.

However, back then I was just a silly little girl, with silly big blue eyes, who kept a silly journal about her silly friend's life.

But it was a good thing I did.

The Daily Prophet became more of an obituary, than a newspaper as the war rolled on. It's stark white pages lacking the moving pictures it once held in favor of crisp black letter spelling out names and years were oddly reminiscent of their society.

Stark, bleak, and full of contrasts.

The Quibbler on the other hand was rapidly losing subscriptions. It appeared as though society favored death over the truth.

How a-typical.

I don't remember when the pessimism started; all I knew was it felt natural and the loneliness fueled it. Perhaps the sudden gaining of friends, and then loss of said friends started the catalyst. Like I said, I don't remember.

Father was upset about magazine sales and had taken to wearing a flask of gin on his hip. He may have been a great father, but he was a terrible drunk. He was not so much violent as he was weepy and sad. He cried over everything from my mother's death to a burned out light bulb.

Since a young age I've learned not to mourn spilled milk.

The school year was rapidly spiraling downward to a depressing lack-luster finale, which would carry over, into an equally depressing summer. There was nothing to look forward to anymore. War had made sure of that.

Ginny, who is actually one of the two main characters in this story, had become a serial dater amidst the confusion. Everyone deals with pain in their own ways, her ways just happened to be those of a scarlet woman. She fluttered from one boy to the next entrancing them, and then leaving them like little puppy dogs, eager to please her, eager to obey.

Her latest victim was the one and only Harry Potter, the boy who fell too hard. After the whole deal with Voldemort and Dumbledore, Merlin rest his soul, he became a piece of work.

Always mumbling about Horcruxes and sounding a bit insane. Ginny didn't do crazy.

Much to the dismay of the wizarding world, she left him on the train ride home in-between his eager planning of the final battle. He was just a little boy, and Ginny knew that.

Ginny wanted someone who would protect her above all else, and Harry put the light before her.

Ginny wanted someone who gave her a challenge and in turn challenged her; Harry was merely obedient.

Ginny wanted something better than Harry Potter.

Leaving the compartment that day, was one of the best and worst things that ever happened to her. Among her brother's bellows of treason she had finally figured out what she wanted.

The only cost was her purity.

So she closed the door and never looked back to see a shell-shocked Hermione, a red faced Ron, or a gaping Harry. Rather instead she made her way down the train, to the last compartment, which held Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle

Sitting down there she said the words that change her life.

“Hello, I'm Ginerva.”

Thus began her descent into darkness.

-->

…in a kingdom far far away…

Were ideals, not held by the majority of the wizarding world. Morals that were quickly gaining popularity as the general public looked for results from the light side.

Finally their eyes had wandered past the brilliantly made up poster boy to the coffin of Dumbledore. They had lost an icon, and as a result wanted something back. Something sustainable that could be help in their hands and waved like a banner.

But all they had was a little boy, lost in his own world, by his choice alone.

I never fully understood how Ginny's actions on that fateful changed the war, till many years later. I, like so many others, closed my eyes to that which I did not want to see.

Harry really loved Ginny in his cute childish way. Her leaving crushed his oh-so-fragile state of mind. I see that now, but I didn't then. I, along with the general public, wanted to believe that Harry was the infallible replacement for Dumbledore, but to put it simply, he wasn't.

Like I've said before, he was just a little boy, thrown into a full-fledged tornado and expected to stand his ground. It was only natural that he stumbled quite a bit first.

The light side, in the struggle to pull a magical winning rabbit out of their hat, forgot that Harry was a mere human made of flesh and bone. He had no special powers, or extreme strength. He was a mortal boy who was confused and scared.

I understand it now. Since I have experienced all these things, these terrors, I understand them. I understand why Ginny left the light, and in some not-so-twisted way it makes sense to me. My reasons for thinking this, however, cannot yet be revealed. It is far too early in the story. It would ruin the surprise ending.

Life is just full of surprises.

I understand that now.

I knew why Ginny left Harry. I didn't need to speculate on wrong reasons. Like I said before, she wanted something else. She told me so, more or less, after Dumbledore's service.

She wanted something else, something different, something more. Passion and romance, perhaps, or maybe quiet conversations in candlelit rooms or perhaps something as simple as not being second best. At least, that's what I thought she was saying.

What ever it was she wanted, Harry didn't have it, do it, or even know what it was. Typical male, totally oblivious.

I however, was not oblivious as to what was going on. I knew it was something important as soon as she opened that compartment door.

I stood in the back drop and watched as she talked with Draco Malfoy's best…well I guess the appropriate word would be friends, but I wasn't quite sure if that was an accurate statement.

Now a days, I wasn't sure about many thing. My perception had been shifted so many times with the current state of politics that things looked extremely different then they did last week.

Every thing was darker, grimmer looking then it seemed last week.

But, that was only my personal opinion.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone ever really notices me. Do they ever see me? Do they even care?

I'm sure that I can do fine on my own, but sometimes a girl just wants to be noticed. She wants to hear that she's beautiful.

I think Ginny wants to hear that she's beautiful, but again, that's only my personal opinion.

Everyone knows what that's worth. Loony Lovegood.

So I sat there in the shadows on that eventful train ride, no one in that compartment noticing, me sitting up in their luggage rack, listening to their conversation. Living through their lives.

I'm not really sure why Pansy let Ginny sit with them. It's not as though Pansy had any reason to trust Ginny, or even like her. But she let her sit. She let her become submerged in their world.

After the compartment door snapped shut again Pansy scooted closer to Blaise giving Ginny room to sit, the faded burgundy velvet bunching up her jade green skirt as she slid along it. Goyle and Crabbe resumed their game of exploding snap and Blaise opened the forum to talk.

“Ginerva, I've seen you at Slug Club meetings,” he said casually, lacing his fingers with Pansy's. Obviously with Draco gone Blaise was marking his territory, and Pansy didn't mind one bit as she leaned back into his arms.

“Quite boring, don't you agree?” Ginny remarked casually casting a furtive glance out the compartment door, not quick enough to go unnoticed, but too quick to not arouse suspicions.

“Looking for someone special?” Pansy asked with a small sneer marring her glacial beauty. Pansy really was pretty, in a Russian princess sort of way. She had the dark eyes and full bodied black hair. Russian Princess.

“On the contrary. Making sure someone not special at all didn't follow me. Potter can be quite the puppy,” She remarked flippantly, so out of character, as she pulled the trademark ribbons binding her braids out. Her nimble fingers worked rapidly at unbraiding her thick red hair, giving her a full sultry mane of hair.

Before this incident, I had never noticed just how beautiful Ginny was. She had lush curves, sparkling brown eyes, and that hair. I would tell her she was beautiful, but I didn't say a word. I listened, I watched, and I recorded.

The perfect little Ravenclaw.

“You have great hair,” Pansy stated, leaning forward and tugging on one of the crimson curls, in an envious sort of fashion.

Pansy was a Slytherin through and through; always envious of what she didn't have, never appreciating what she did.

“I know,” Ginny, replied with what sounded like a hint of vanity, as she pushed the curls over her left shoulder.

“Ginerva, I may have underestimated you,” Blaise said in his cold, Slytherin-esqe demeanor, looking at her in a calculating way.

“We shall have to remain in contact this summer,” Pansy replied, pulling out what looked like a small white business card from her pocket.

“Owl me and I might reply,” The older girl said with a light smirk, as Ginny pocketed the card.

“I'll consider it,” She said noncommittally, gathering together the few possessions she had brought with her.

“Do more than consider,” Blaise said in a decidedly darker note, as he pulled down his and Pansy's trunks disturbing my viewpoint.

“If you insist,” Ginny said lightly, my vision was obstructed, but I would guess that she was smiling lightly, or smirking. It would only seem fitting in such a situation.

Once again the compartment door snapped shut, and I realized she had left, most likely to gather her things.

So began the correspondence between three completely different people, Ginny the innocent, Pansy the slut, and Blaise the mysterious. And if I wasn't mistaken, Ginny had initiated it.

-->