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Ginny Potter - A Harry Potter Fanfiction Archive and Community -- Fictioneer
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Non-HP related Fanfics >> Hints by neypuslover

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Snoring…Wait…Snoring? I opened my eyes—and immediately sunlight poked at it. Shielding the sun’s powerful rays, I rubbed my eyes. Then I started. There was someone sleeping next to me! I was about to scream before I recognized him.

Robert’s chest rose and fell gently, his face was peaceful. Peaceful in a way that I couldn’t really explained. It looked as if he was several years younger. As I stared at him, he mumbled something and turned over, away from the sunlight.

Sunlight? Who had opened the metal screen? I figured it must have been Robert as he was fully clothed but had he been last night? I shook my head, trying to separate the jumble that was my mind.

I sighed. How old was he? Where was his family (if he had any)? Was he immune? How did he protect himself? A thousand more questions flooded my mind but I pushed them away. I could ask him later.

As quietly as I could, I got out of bed and tip-toed to the door. My hand closed on the smooth handle and I quickly turned it and exited. As light and quick as a shadow.

I explored for a moment before I found the bathroom. It was small and tiled with a bathtub squeezed in a corner and a sink at the other.

I closed the door behind me and stripped of my clothes. Looking with disgust at the dirt that caked my body, I turned on the heater and water poured out. It was a while before the tub was full and I busied myself with washing my face and brushing my teeth (with a spare toothbrush that I had found lying nonchalantly on the side of the tub).

When it seemed full, I tested the water then stepped in, soaking myself. I sighed in contentment. I could stay here as long as I liked…It had been so long since I had taken a bath…

I grabbed soap from a holder next to me and began to scrub myself. The dirt poured off in torrents. The water grew steadily murkier and darker as I rubbed my hair. When I was finished, I pulled the plug and let the water go, flinching at the dark spots of dirt that was still there after the water drained. I turned the water back on and rinsed the tub until it was clean.

“That’s better,” I murmured and wrapped a towel around myself. Ignoring my dripping hair (I don’t usually dry it), I opened the door—and found myself face to face with Robert! I nearly dropped the towel covering me but gathered myself just in time.

“Hey, Rose—Oh I’m so sorry!” Robert cried, realizing that I was naked except for he towel covering my private parts.

“It’s okay,” I assured him, a little embarrassed myself. “But I was wondering if you have any my sized clothes as my own are—well—dirty.”

“Uh, this way,” said Robert nervously, turning and leading the way to a room that was beside the one that I slept in.

He opened the closet and, shading his eyes, threw it on the bed. The clothes were a long jeans and a tank top.

“These are my wife’s,” Robert explained, throwing a bra and daring-looking lingerie on the bed, beside the jeans and tank top.

I lowered my head, wondering where his family was but I decided against mentioning it. Robert looked a little sad and anguished.

He excused himself and went quickly out of the room, leaving me to put on the clothes. I saw a tear drop onto his cheek but averted my eyes, pretending I hadn’t seen.


When I walked down to the kitchen five minutes later Robert looked up from his spaghetti and was surprised.

“Merlin, you’re a fast dresser,” he complimented then indicated a dish filled with food across the table from him. “I got you breakfast.”

“Thanks,” I said, picking up a fork and digging in. For a few moments there was silence (exception of chewing and glasses thumping onto the table) then—

“Where’s your family?” asked Robert, his eyes fixed on his plate.

I was silent until Robert said quickly, “I-I didn’t mean to offend you or anything-!”

“No,” I said quietly. “You’re not offending me and anyway I need to talk about them.” I couldn’t tell you how I felt. Like…Torn between sadness and some kind of anguished feeling that had nothing to do with Robert.

Robert was quiet, still afraid that he had offended me.

I began. “Years ago, (I can only remember vaguely) my parents were some kind of—scientists. They were working on a project designed and invented by my father.” I dropped my eyes. “I had a sister. She worked in the lab with my parents and one-one day th-there was an accident.” I took a deep breath. I could already feel tears starting to come. I didn’t know how I remembered. I guess that having a person in all these years to ask me really triggered my mind. “My sister, sh-she turned into one of them a-and I was there, I saw it all happen…” I collapsed into tears. It was very unusual for me to cry as I’ve never really cried before but this time I needed to.

Robert looked uncertain for a moment before he was up in his chair and embracing me, murmuring, “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…I shouldn’t have asked you…”

I just sat there, sobs expanding from me and my arms limp by my sides. The realization that my parents were responsible for the Infection was really starting to get to me—and it made me sob harder for what could have been. If my parents hadn’t been working on that project …If my sister hadn’t been Infected…If the world wasn’t what it is now…

I tried to continue, talking through my tears. “A-and m-my father h-had to sh-shoot her w-with a gun b-but it was too late. I-I never saw my mother so-o sad. Sh-she didn’t act till it was too late. I-I saw their loss of humanity instincts…” The words were pouring from me, making no sense at all (for me, at least).

Robert shushed me and began rocking me. It was a few hours before my sobs finally abated, leaving me there shaking with red eyes and still hiccupping.

“There…” Robert let me go, his eyebrows still drawn together. “I’m sorry I asked you about your family. I was just curious as why you’re all alone. I’m really sorry.”

I waved away his apology and said thickly, “It’s really is okay. I guess I needed to talk about them and…I just didn’t remember the story being so…sad, I guess.”

Robert nodded understandingly. He changed the subject. “So when was your first time with a gun?” he asked, hoping it did not involve the matter of my parents.

“When I had to shoot my parents before they attacked me.” I dropped my head.

“Oh…” I could tell that Robert was embarrassed.

There was a silence between us for awhile before I began clearing the dishes. Robert shot an uneasy look at me before helping.

“No, it’s alright,” I said, dumping dirty dishes in the sink. “I can do it.” Robert gave me another worried look before walking out of the kitchen, the steps having a worried rhythm themselves.

I was silent while washing the dishes and putting them in their racks. My mind was buzzing with too much confusion to make any sound. How did I remember? Was another person enough to trigger my memory into giving up more than in three years since the start of the infection? Did the words that had poured from my lips just a few minutes ago was true? Did I really have a sister? Why couldn’t I remember anything? How could I face Robert next time? I put the last dish in its rack and stuck my hands under the icy jet of water that was pouring out from the faucet. Watching the soapy suds, rolling off my hands, I murmured, my words sounding like a firework in the room, “Oh, God, what are you going to do now?”

I shook my head, feeling the familiar urge to cry again. It’s no use to cry like a baby, Rose, I said to myself sternly, It won’t help.

Unconsciously, I splashed some water onto my face, washing away the tear streaks. I at least had to be presentable when going out of the kitchen. I did not want Robert to think I am weaker than since I cried.

I turned off the faucet and reached for a towel. My hand scrabbled for a few moments before it closed on something smooth and cold.

I grasped it and opened my eyes, ignoring the sting of water flowing in. It was a gun. A real rifle. Not just any rifle. But one that was new and well polished, one that could shoot without having to pull the trigger extra hard as mine had.

I pulled out my own rifle and held it close to the other one. “Different,” I said, puzzled. “Newer but where on earth could you get a new one?”

“Built it,” said a voice behind me.

I jumped, accidentally dropping my rifle and aiming the new one at the stranger. “Robert!” I cried, putting a hand over the place where I knew where my heart was and lowering the gun. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands then lowered it when his eyes found the rifle in my hand.

“Oh…Is this yours?” I asked, holding it out to him. “I found it on the counter.”

“Yeah, that’s mine.” He took it and examined it. Then he lifted his head and instead looked at my old and beaten up rifle. “But I don’t really need it. You can have it.”

He pushed it into my hands and said, “I have others.”

I said quickly, “No, no, I really can’t have it! I-I mean you must use it…” But my fingers closed over it.

“No biggy,” Robert said. “Now do you want to stay shut up in this house all day or do you want to do some shopping and look for ammunition?”

I thought. “Definitely going out,” I said, smiling. “Plus, I need some new clothes.”

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