Painting Her Portrait
WEEK TWO: - ". . .not funny, Gin."
Colin eyed the redhead over his kippers; she was giggling at something her brother was saying to Harry and Hermione, something about them acting like an old married couple, the brunette blushing at these words - he wished those two'd hurry up and get together already. She, Ginny that is, looked happy enough without him around her and it was killing him; she was his best friend. His confident. His rock. . .and he was hers. Or at least, he'd always thought he'd been hers. She'd always shared everything with him, but since the beginning of term she'd been distant; hiding herself away in her studies and her art. Her art that she no longer showed him and yet only last year he'd seen nearly every single doodle she'd done, even if it was just a small eyed she'd etched into the corner of her parchment or a heart, absentmindedly drawn as they gossiped in the Library. He knew something was wrong - Merlin! - everything about her was wrong. She looked stretched, her eyes deadened and her skin not quite so luminous. Furthermore she was thinner than ever, not that she'd ever been anything other than slight but. . .when she'd granted him - a now scarcely given - hug he could have snapped her in two. He also noticed her inability to eat great amounts and her odd distance from the world.
It was bizarre and it was killing him she didn't seem to care that he was worried sick about her well being.
Ginny stopped laughing quite suddenly and looked over towards Colin, her best friend, her best friend who didn't know she wouldn't live to see the new year, her best friend who she wasn't speaking to at the moment. Colouring slightly she garbled an excuse before standing, fumbling with her bag and heading out of the hall, glaring hatefully at the Slytherins as she passed them by, simply because one of them held within his mind one of the most precious secrets that she'd ever possessed. Pansy and Millicent had spied the redhead's spiteful glower towards their house and whispered to one another that "that damn bitch was going to get a seeing to". Slytherin girls - well, girls in general - didn't have much love for Ginny, they never had done, truthfully. In her mind Ginny counted only two girls to be her proper friends, Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood. And both of those were not exactly considered the "epitome of femininity", Hermione with her bushy, brown, hair and long gangly legs and Luna who was odder than most that attended the school and was in ownership of the pair of biggest, roundest, eyes that Ginny had ever seen. Still, they were her friends and she didn't care that a majority of the female population regarded her with distain. Distain for her being slim. Being fun, confident, intelligent, creative, beautiful. For having a loud dirty laugh, and for not caring that she wasn't seen as cool or chic.
Yawning, Ginny found herself in front of the Room of Requirement, the door already there and just waiting for her to open it. She did have the morning free due to potions being cancelled that day and well. . .it'd seem positively rude not to oblige after it had materialized for her. Pushing down the tarnished brass handle, she entered. The room was large and spacious, painted cream with an extensive, smooth and varnished wooden floor. One wall was designed to look as if it was a patio, summer sun shining gently through it, warming the room. Ginny smiled. In the centre of the room there was a long thin table, upon it was clay, paints, glaze and various implements for cutting and shaping the clay. To the side of the table there was also a potter's wheel. Perfect. She didn't know a better way to lose one's self and release stress than ceramic sculpture. . .well, with the exception of flying, maybe.
Taking off her robe and replacing it with a large apron Ginny hacked off a lump of clay, dampened her hands and began to knead the clay as though it were dough. It softened easily beneath her forceful ministrations. It felt co cool and . . .squidgy. It was almost a cathartic exercise, the feeling of the grey mass beneath her long, artist's fingers. What to make? What to create? A bust; the head and shoulders of a certain someone. But who?
It clicked.
She began to mould the beginnings of a head, neck and shoulders. Big, strong, shoulders. A pointed chin and a prominent, roman nose. Shapely lips and high cheekbones. A coif of swept back hair; not gelled, or plastic looking. . .just longish and pushed back out of the eyes. Glancing at her watch she saw she'd been there for two hours! Drat! Transfiguration began in ten minutes; jumping up she pulled the apron off of herself and grabbed her bag. Darting from the room she pelted through the corridors, ignoring the bemused looks of students that were slowly ambling to their next lessons or chatting idly to their friends. Her clay caked hands pushed open the door to Professor McGonagal's room and, breathing heavily, entered the half full classroom.
"Sweet Merlin, Ms Weasley! What is all over you?"
Looking down at herself Ginny saw her hands were grey and dusty, her sleeves too were covered with splatters of clay, her robe had been left in the Room of Requirement and, once she caught sight of her face in the window, she discovered that she had a smudge of clay on her nose, her forehead and small clumps in her hair. Circe. She really needed to be more careful. She gave a little apologetic 'heh' and shrugged slightly as if to say to her Head of House "what can you do?".
"It's, erm. . .clay, Professor."
"I see. Well, take a seat, Weasley."
Seeing her usual seat besides Colin taken by a Hufflepuff she only vaguely knew, she made her way to the vacant place next to the window, behind Luna. Noticing Colin's gaze - though he was trying his hardest to look casual as he chatted to his new found friend - she was determined to not look at him, or upset by the fact he'd replaced her. She supposed, that in January he'd need to find a new working partner anyway. Turning around Luna faced the redhead.
"Hey, Gin."
"'Lo Luna. . .don't suppose you have a mirror do you?"
The blonde shook her head, her long tresses flailing about her shoulders, "but I do have this marvellous Crumple Horned Snorkack's crumpled horn and it's reflective so, you know, you could use that. . .though, I personally I think that the 'flecked with clay' look only adds to your arty image. . ."
Ginny coughed. "Well, thanks, Luna but. . .you know what? I don't care." And, honestly, she found she couldn't have cared less that she was dotted with remnants of her creativity, so, washing the clay off her hands with a scourgify charm, she didn't attempt to locate the whereabouts of the rest of the mess upon her person. . .she'd shower tonight, anyway. Smiling at her friend, Ginny took out parchment, quill and ink and prepared for the lesson. Really, what did it matter she didn't look perfect? Life wasn't perfect, she wasn't perfect. . .nothing was perfect, not really.
0x-
The next day, fresh and fully devoid of clay, Ginny entered the Great Hall and joined the Ravenclaw table for breakfast as opposed to joining her fellow Gryffindors. She was in a good mood, a bright mood and a mood that allowed her to not worry quite so much about her looming fate. And, when in a mood such as this, she preferred to sit with Luna. Luna didn't question things, she didn't fret over her as though she were fragile goods and she didn't shoot her hostile looks that clearly said she ought to apologise for being a bitch.
"Hello Ginny."
"Hi Luna…mind if I sit with you lot this morning?"
The blonde shook her head, but as she did so Ginny noticed a large ebony feathered owl descend upon her and squawk loudly, impatiently, as though it had been waiting there for hours no seconds. Merlin. Even bloody birds were having a go at her these days. Untying the burden of a thin piece of parchment from it's leg, the hauntingly beautiful owl rose once more into the air and swooped away, quick as it had come.
"How…odd. I never get post that's not delivered by Errol."
Shrugging, the redhead unfurled the yellowish scrap.
Miss Weasley,
We here at St. Mungo's believe every terminally ill patient should begin sessions with our councillor as the end of their suffering draws to a close. Please owl back for suitable times.
Eleanor Dames,
Welcome Witch for St. Mungo's Hospital
She crumpled the parchment before anyone had a chance to read the words scrawled upon it in swirling, unfeeling text. How…brusque and unsympathetic…clearly St. Mungo's needed help with customer relations. And, well that was besides the point. She didn't need to see a bloody shrink. That's what art was for…that's why she was creative; if she went and spewed her feelings out for an allotted half an hour a week with a nobody who couldn't really care if Ginny was seeing rainbows and bunny rabbits or a homicidal maniac murdering her entire family in an ink blot test where would her muse go? Down the toilet, that's where…and with her expiry date so very close…well, she didn't want inspiration to run dry. Didn't want to hit "painters block", as it were.
"Who was that from?"
"Erm, just some beauty product company I signed up for." The lie fell easily from her tongue, though it really wasn't appropriate. Ginny never wore make-up, except for the odd layer of mascara to give her eyes a bit of definition and frame. That never seemed to occur to the blonde, however, or if it did (which Ginny suspected it did, as Luna was the most perceptive of people.) she chose to ignore her friend's hidden truth and continue to gabble about how her father had recently written an article about the Leonardo Di Vinci scandal…normally Ginny could have been mildly interested, but right now her mind wandered.; positive mood, evaporating by the minute. It irritated her no end when people pushed their noses in, picking up a croissant (clearly the House Elves were getting a little adventurous these days) she savagely pulled it apart with her fingers and crammed little bits into her mouth. Not really remembering to chew all that well.
"Whoa, steady, Gin-girl." Laughed Michel Corner, her ex-boyfriend. "You're in danger of actually gaining weight if you eat like that."
"Chance'd be a fine thing, Michel." Sighed Ginny, glaring at the protruding bone in her wrist.
The boy simply chuckled, she really was the oddest girl he'd ever met. Well, excluding Looney Lovegood, perhaps. She wanted to gain weight…all he ever heard about was stick thin girls attempting to lose "Just A Few More Pounds" - and what? You'll turn sideways and disappear?! Not Gin though, grounded that one was…far too into art to care what the reflection showed. Though, he had to say, she didn't need to worry…au naturelle seemed the perfect solution to Ginevra Weasley looking beautiful. Occasionally he looked back to their fourth year and regretted ending things with her. Then, of course, he'd recall the strange distraction she had from life, the way all the little things would upset or please her and all the big things wash over her as though nothing had happened. She seemed detached and yet so completely consumed by everything life had to offer - good or bad. One of life's rarities, that, he was certain of.
"Hey, Luna -- I'll, err, see you in Charms, okay?" murmured Ginny as she stood, slinging her far too heavy bag over her shoulder.
"Don't forget the careers talk, Gin, you need to sign up - it's on Saturday. That entrepreneur who Daddy reckons stole --"
"Yeah, don't worry I'll do it." She felt a little mean, dismissing her friend's anecdote so abruptly but you had to nip it in the bud with people like Luna, or, well, you'd be there all morning and when you just wanted out of the room full of inane chatter…it was just something you had to do.
Stupid careers meeting. What was the bloody point…she could be finishing off her sculpture in the Room of Requirement instead of listening to some Gilderoy Lockhart wannabe talk about how he changed the world, with luck, determination and a few million galleons from Mummy's rainy day fund. Even if she didn't have a bloody great tumour that would ensure she have no career or future she was certain she wouldn't have wanted the pompous git to come and talk to her…she'd have wanted to be an artist. She did want to be an artist…wanted her own shows…for people to pay to see and own her work…
Oh, Hell.
Tears began bubbling in her eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She knew, she trained herself, to never think about the future…especially when she didn't have one longer than nine weeks…but sometimes, sometimes damn it, it just wasn't fair. It really wasn't….she wanted to be successful, wanted kids and a husband and a house and…just to live. For Merlin's sake she wanted to live.
"Well, well…mini Weasley." The nasal voice came from that of none other than Pansy Parkinson. Her dark brown bob and pug-nose recognisable through even Ginny's fairly think flow of tears.
"Aww…she's cwying, Pans." Mocked Daphne Greengrass, a beautiful Slytherin girl, all platinum blonde and legs.
Pansy laughed - a low menacing chuckle…nothing like the high, shrieking cackle she put on in the Great Hall so that people would turn to look at what the Princess of Slytherin found quite so hilarious. Generally it was the misfortune or humiliation of one of her peers.
"Get lost, you poisonous bints, I'm in no mood."
"Oh really? Look at that, Daph, the redhead's got claws."
"So it would seem."
"We just wanted a little chat, Ginny, darling" smirked the brunette. The two girls advanced on the redhead, backing her into the wall.
"Yeah, well, I don't want a conversation with two people who have not enough brains between them to fill a thimble."
"A what?"
Ginny ignored the slightly intellectually challenged blonde and attempted to barge past them. Her minuscule frame simply bounced off their toned, heavily exercised bodies, causing her to jerk back against the wall. If Malfoy had told them…Ooh.
She was just reaching for her wand, thinking she love to take all her current frustrations out on the two when a tall, white-blonde, boy appeared behind them.
"Girls." he greeted, icily. His grey eyes flashing menacingly.
Pansy turned, clearly thinking he'd come to help taunt the small redhead. "Oh, Drake! Come to join the fun? Don't you think Weasley's been getting a little too big for her boots..? Me and Daphne here, were discussing it yesterday. She has this air of…superiority --"
Ginny was about to shout down the impertinent, hypocritical brunette when Malfoy stepped in. "And you don't have that, eh, Parkinson?" He gave a derisive look, which left no one in any uncertain terms that Draco Malfoy was a snob that saw himself even above those of his own creed. "Now, you two little girls run along and play nicely in future."
Daphne began to protest.
"Or you'll have me to contend with, Darlings."
He shook his head as he turned and watched the two storm away, rage apparently making them walk with more flare to their hips than was quite possibly normal…or attractive. The amused glint in his eyes dimmed as he turned back to face Ginny. Watching her as she composed herself after what he thought must have been quite harrowing for the poor girl…she wasn't as strong --
CRACK!
He felt the petit, russet-haired, girl's hand collide with his cheek hard an smartly. It instantly began to sting and a red mark was glowing on his pale flesh.
"You're welcome!" He gasped; shock and indignation and an urge to still keep his rage under control for her sake.
Bloody miscreant! How dare he? She'd never felt so weak or embarrassed in her life…she expected him to be mean about her illness, snide or even flat out ignore her not wanting to associate with someone pot marked by death…but this over-protective, I'll save you bull shit was bad enough when it came from people who loved her…but, from that pasty faced little ferret! It was too much to bear. Particularly in front of those two girls. She could have saved her own ass. She knew more spells and curses than Greengrass and Parkinson between them. Idiot! Next time they'd have Millicent too, who, although as about as bright as Crabbe and Goyle on good days, had more muscle and strength and…bulk than Ginny had ever had in her life sick or no.
"For Merlin's sake Malfoy! I was fine! Don't think you have some sort of bloody noble duty to look after me or some shit like that. You don't need to treat me any differently to normal. Great Circe." And with that she too stormed away. Leaving the Slytherin feeling both hard done by and very confused. One of the very few time she'd stuck up for someone in need and had been slapped for his trouble and told to back off. Ungrateful little chit.
0x-
Bursting into the Room of Requirement, she saw everything as she'd left it before dashing out to Transfiguration the day before. The sculpture of Draco Malfoy half finished, yet utterly recognisable as it's human counterpart. Standing in front of it she punched the solid clay, hard. It barely dented the face, only to smudge the nose a little. Rage, frustration and the indignation the three times already today she'd been reminded she was dying, all came out into the bust of the blonde haired Slytherin royalty. How dare he? How fucking dare he?
She didn't want his blasted pity. Didn't want anyone's pity. Didn't want to need pity. Didn't want a reason to have to have pity. She continued to punched and rip at the clay until there was nothing left. Her head hurt, her cheeks were streaked with tears and for the life of her she could not understand a word of what was blustering through her mind. Song lyrics, quotations, curses, rants, books, dreams and wishes that she'd never fulfil.
"Arghhhh! Enough! I've had…I've had enough now. Take it away, please…just take it away." The room changed. She found herself lying in the centre of a large bed covered in emerald green sheets, sobbing her heart out until she could physically feel the pain in her heart. Scrambling about her hands found the handles to her bag. Opening it up she search for a vial, full of her medicine. Downing the recommended amount she felt sleep hit her like a steam train. She was so warn out…so tired. Just need sleep. Just a little bit of sleep…
0x-
It was four days since Ginny's…episode in the Room of Requirement. She told no one about it and for some reason people seemed to know better than to ask where she'd disappeared to that day. Rumours as to where - or who from, more accurately - Malfoy had acquired the red hand print upon his cheek had been circulating the castle, something Ginny shared a secret smile to herself about. Something she'd have told Colin, under normal circumstances and they'd have both giggled at the Ice Prince's misfortune at crossing Ginevra Weasley. He'd not attempted to approach her again, which she was thankful for. She didn't think she could handle another fit like the one which he'd induced. Not two in a week anyway, far too tiring, really. Fun though…she must remember he was the one to seek out if she ever needed to feel that yes, she wasn't quite dead yet.
The redhead currently sat in her Charms classroom, listening to a absurdly tanned, permed and enthusiastic wizard chatter meaninglessly about how he'd managed to do something or other and create an empire all by himself. Never mind, all those people you'd have to have to work for you, the accountants and lawyers and cleaners and P&A people…mused Ginny. Foolish man. How was it he didn't have cancer or something equally permanent…Spattergroit, for example. The orange pustules would blend excellently with his St. Tropez colouring, she was sure.
"Ginny - Gin!" Hissed Luna. "Come on, he's done."
"Oh right." Slightly dazed and half in a reverie she stood and began to exit the classroom. On the way out the brilliantly carroty pigmented wizard handed her a free copy of his The Guide Essential Guide To Your Future Career. The fact it was only twenty-three pages long didn't seem to hint towards anyone but Ginny that if would be utterly useless. Then again, she pondered as she walked down a silent corridor, in her situation the silly little book was utterly superfluous anyway and she tossed it over her shoulder.
"Ouch."
She spun on her heel. "Colin! You scared me."
"Yeah, well…" he muttered resentfully, picking the book of other floor and reaching out his arm to hand it to her.
"I don't want it. Why are you following me?"
"Why don't you want it?" demanded Colin. "Think you're too good to need a fall back plan if maybe, just maybe your oh so stable career as an artist doesn't launch properly?"
"No, actually, more of the fact I don't have a future to worry about. besides…it's none of your damned business, Creevey." She growled his surname with a ferocity that made Colin think Ginny had been picking up tips from Malfoy and his cronies, recently.
"What are you talking about, Gin…look I didn't mean you weren't good at art or anything just you know…it's not a solid --"
"Save it, Colin, okay? I know you weren't saying that."
"Well, then, don't be stupid, Gin; you have got a future."
"No, Colin," she smiled sadly. "What I do have is cancer."
Silence. Deadened, impenetrable silence.
"…not funny, Gin."
"Not laughing, Col."
Author's Note: Really sorry…it's taken forever! I hope you like it though. The characters are starting to feel more real, more there to me now. Hope you feel that too.
Draco will be more developed as the story goes on. And hopefully, Ginny will just continue to grow. I know she seems fickle; she wants pity, she doesn't. She wants to be notice, to be left alone. And truthfully I think she doesn't quite know how she feels. On one hand death doesn't scare her, but her lack of future does -- y'know?
Anyways, please review. I'd love to know what you think.
And I shall try to update speedier next time.
Tash x