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Paper Roses
Chapter Two
Savouring the darkness around her, a girl in simple plainness lay lonesome on her bed staring up at a ceiling. Her heart pounded in her chest slowly. It was almost too slowly. To her it felt as if her life were ebbing away from her body in fumes of grey glory. All her limbs felt leaden and weightless at the same time making it difficult for her to tell whether she was really there at all.
When she walked the corridors, or ate in the Great Hall, it was as if she were invisible to the world. The limelight of people's attention fell on others both cruel and kind. No one seemed to care about the Weasley girl. Their eyes would see right through her as she moved through life being jostled by other, more important people. When she spoke she was sure that her voice escaped in a bubble undetected by others. For all they knew she could be dead, and they would only really care when it was far too late for them to change anything.
Death, it seemed to her, would be a blessing if it weren't for the pain it caused others. It wasn't like dying would change the world much. She had made no imprint upon it and as she breathed in and out slowly in the darkness, she knew that what she had now was a living death. Neither dead nor alive, she roamed the school like a ghost. Not like any ghost at Hogwarts though, who were crass and loud. They were scared of being forgotten and fought for their voices to be heard. Virginia Weasley though could walk through walls for all the good it would do.
The curtains were drawn tightly around her bed, leaving her in a shroud of darkness. She didn't mind though, it let her concentrate more then the demanding nature of light. Her fingers lingered on her throat gently caressing the purpling bruise found there. Maybe if the pressure had been a little harder she would be dead and not here pondering questions and answers.
For months on end she had drifted through days longing to be home. At home she commands her mother's attention and felt the tug at her heartstrings. School though presented something much more sinister and dark. People were snide to other people because of how they looked or dressed. Girls would be in a constant flutter over boys or the prospect of boys in many cases. There would be fights over morals, each one thinking the other was wrong. Then looming all of the adolescent traumas there was the fear of dying.
Ginny had never been part of youth in the school. She would watch the other girls bustle about and try to impress the boys. The boys in turn would either not notice the amount of effort gone in to attracting them, or ignore the presence all together. It seemed to her that boys didn't care if you were wearing make-up or had bought a new robe. They didn't notice if your hair wasn't exactly perfect. Plastering themselves with perfume and paint was not what attracted men. They were more interested in how the girl looked generally. Bodies seemed to be a lot of the central attraction. To her it all seemed pointless.
At the beginning of her school years she had tried to fit in. Her crush on Harry Potter though made her awkward and clumsy. People looked at her and sneered for being so in awe of a person who would never love them back. It had taken time but slowly his power over her vanished and with it did her urge to fit in with the other witches. Instead she had found herself interested in the world around her.
It was this disinterest in the people around her that led to them slowly forgetting she was there. At first it had been used to her advantage. She could sit at the back of the classroom and observe what was happening out the window. It didn't bother her that she was rarely spoken to. People would occasionally witter on at her in pity, but honestly, did they think she cared about their intricate love lives?
Later on though it had become lonely with no one around to even pity her existence. There were no longer snide remarks for the nastier of the people, or niceties from the people who supposedly were her friends. She had begun to crave attention, but her own pride swallowed up any chance she had of walking over to some people and talking about the weather. It was pointless crap that didn't really matter in life at all. In fact she refused to even listen to her brothers spout rubbish.
So she had refrained from human contact, allowing herself to slip into a world where she could be whoever she wished to be. All she had to do was close her eyes and dream. Unfortunately though she would always be awoken from the dream and forced to live the life her mother had given her. She didn't complain though - that too was pointless. What she did do was create a game though. She would sit and observe the people around her and from that she learnt about human nature.
In theory Ginny knew more about human nature then any of the others. She would watch the way they smiled jovially at some people, but when they left there would be that split second where the true emotion would surface. It only lasted that brief second though and no one ever seemed to notice it. The game was to know people better then they knew themselves. She would imagine little scenarios between people and then manipulate it in reality so it would happen.
One such scenario had been the relationship between Ron and Hermione. Little did they know that she was the reason they were now in happy honeymoon bliss of a relationship. Having noticed the sparks flying off them, she had resolved that if she couldn't be happy, she would make sure other people were. With this in mind she had created the paper rose.
It had taken her hours to work out the first one of its kind. She was determined to make it perfect though and with time it became so. Each petal was peeled away from the centre precisely to reveal a bud. At the time she thought that it might have been easier to just use real ones, but then it had struck her that that showed nothing of passion. The rose would wither and die - she didn't want the love of her brother and his friend to do exactly the same. After having sculpted it, she twisted the ends to make sure the paper held together. With a tap of her wand it was binded into a red stem.
Then it came to executing her plan. She had snuck up into Ron's room and had gently placed it on his pillow. This was then repeated in Hermione's room. No one noticed her enter or leave. It was the perfect plan and now all she had to do was sit and wait. She didn't have to wait long though. Having got the roses, both parties wanted to know who had given them the rose. Ginny's plan was not over yet and she allowed them both to stew. Often she would notice them glancing around for some sort of clue to who it was. Of course they never noticed though and neither told the other just in case they were thought to be foolish.
After two weeks of waiting though they both discovered a note left on their pillows. They were to meet at the Quidditch pitch at sunset. She imagined them both smiling at the letters on the piece of parchment. It had made her feel warm inside to know that she could make two people so very happy.
Before sunset she had gone out and hidden in the stands where she had had the perfect view of the two of them meeting and kissing. From there they had begun a relationship that had filled both of their hearts with something that Ginny felt she could never possibly have. She was alone but it didn't mean everyone else had to be punished as she was being.
That was what it was. Punishment for being so naïve about the world. Punishment for being so trusting of a diary that whispered into her ear.
So the charade had continued and Ginny had had both successes and failures. The paper roses she made were given away and not one piece of perfection did she keep for herself. Sometimes she would hear people whispering that it was cupid working his magic on the students. Most though didn't even know of the rose and it made her smile when she thought of the mystery she had created. No one even suspected the girl who wandered around from room to room alone. She never spoke to them and they never spoke to her.
It had made her content to make others happy.
That was until she felt the familiar tug of her heart.
Walking along the corridor, she had bumbled along glancing from one side to the other. In a far off corner two people were arguing and it had instantly got her attention. She had watched as one girl threw insults at the other and she had wondered what the point of hurting another would be. It was her own fault really for not looking where she was going. She should have known better then to lose concentration on the matter in hand. With a firm step forward she had slammed into Draco Malfoy.
She knew what falling felt like. It was almost like flying and felt like total utter freedom from the world. That was until, of course, you hit the ground with a resounding thud. Her brain had warned her of the bump she was about to have and her eyes had squeezed shut as her body teetered on the edge of balance. Only when she didn't hit the floor did she realise that he was holding her arms tightly in his grip. Her eyes had slowly opened and she'd looked up at him.
The strangest thing was that he was looking right back at her.
'Mind where you walk,' he said after a moment of stillness. 'One day you'll fall and no one will be around to catch you.'
At that she had felt her head nod slightly. It was as if she couldn't move. His whole presence had paralyzed her, but not in fear. She was paralyzed by the thought of him being so near to her. It was comfortable and that scared her.
As if realising what he was doing, he had released her with a jolt and carried on his way. Since then she had found herself watching his every move and noticing every little detail about the boy she couldn't get out of her mind. He haunted every dream, fantasy and nightmare. She saw his pain, his anger and above all his pride. Never did she see him smile or seem in the least bit happy. Her mind told her that all he needed was a hug. A hug would make the world seem so much better.
Never though did she have the courage to wrap her arms around him.
Then the fateful day had come on the Quidditch pitch. Her eyes had been glued to his figure as he descended to the ground in a flurry of silver and green. A frown had creased her forehead. There was no way he was going to make that without hitting the ground hard. Her imagination conjured up images of his face hitting the muddied grass with a crunch that bounced off all the stands. Consumed by the moment she felt the excitement he must have been feeling. The wind must be fresh as it whipped his hair back from his face. He must have felt the freedom of falling and she could imagine him smiling for the first time in a long time.
Then though his world had crumbled round him.
They laughed and mocked the crumpled figure of a boy who thought he'd had everything. Her eyes didn't leave him though. She didn't shout out in his defence because she was scared of what he would think of her if she did. The hurt etched out on his features as he screamed for them to be quiet made her stomach flip over. Like her he was alone and the world stood and laughed.
Suddenly she was filled with something that she had never felt before. She would bring him happiness and knowledge that someone cared for him because she did. What she didn't know though was how to present it. Should she go to him and tell him about everything and nothing? No, she resolved, she would do it in the manner she usually went about it. Her hand had gone to her pocket and from it she withdrew a single paper rose. Tapping her wand against it, it coloured to red.
It hadn't gone how she had planned though and she had sat and watched as he destroyed her one hope of not being alone. With those words whispered from his mouth, she knew she had hurt him. He didn't want her pitiful emotions wasted on him. The ego that only hours ago would have thrived was now shrivelled and dead. Still though he had his pride.
Ginny had never cried as hard as she did sitting on the filthy floor of the changing rooms. No one heard her though. They never did. Even as the others piled into the room to change out of sweaty robes, they didn't see her sat there.
Her tears though had turned to anger, a passion she had not felt often in her brief life. She was filled with a need to lash out, for what she had once seen as pointless to be recognised by the man she was obsessed with. How dare he hurt her like this without even having the grace to know who she was?
Never again would she lash out, she thought as she lay on her bed fingering the dark bruises on her neck. Her eyes closed as a single tear ran down her cheek and the pain of loss throbbed through her.
In her other hand was a single paper rose.