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Ginny Potter - A Harry Potter Fanfiction Archive and Community -- Fictioneer
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HP stories following Canon including OotP >> Of Sadistic Writers and ... Tongues?! by loopmutnauq

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A/N : Alright before I forget, this fic is set post-OOTP. Also it is going to be slightly AU. Sirius is alive and well. He kills off Bellatrix in the duel in the Department of Mysteries. What's that you say... you'll have to be louder... what...rev...REVIEW?... oh well... no...no...I couldn't possibly ask... what was that ... you...you absolutely INSIST you say. We'll okay, if it means that much to you. (Shoulders slumped in defeat).

It did not end pretty. Any which way he ran it through his head. Not pretty.

"When has it ever been pretty with me?" he thought, bitterly."Kind of does poetic justice... of the excruciatingly perverse variety..."

"But poetic justice nonetheless." came the blithe, timely reply.

Yes, that was what Ginny would say. Oh it comforted him like hell to imagine up what Ginny would say.

"And how on earth would you know what Ginny would say... you barely know her."

'Sigh' and then there was that other voice in his head. 'Asshole' he liked to call it... for no particular reason of course. This lovely new addition to his extensive family of 'voices in the head' seemed to come with a single unwavering purpose; to irritate Harry. And most of the time this involved just pointing out painfully obvious facts about his life.

"Alright...fine... it's what I'd like to think she would say..." he almost shouted. He bit his tongue quickly, realizing where he was, then he added under his breath "Asshole..."

"Harry, replay that scene over in your head with Ron feeding you your bile juices after slicing open your gut ... you do a hilarious 'Pissed off Ron'." chirped Ginny.

"Make believe, in your head, half-assed Ginny" Asshole corrected.

Ginny went on, seemingly oblivious to what was just said. Harry imagined her biting her lower lip at this point. That would be so her. Not to mention sexy as hell. "You know... it might be a little more horrifying for you if you made him less...umm... 'constipated' looking."

Harry sniggered, beside himself. Yeah, she would definitely enjoy his distress.

"You wouldn't know …... oh forget it..." Asshole supplied, lamely.

He flopped down on his bed, and began humming a tune he'd heard on the radio the other night, playing from Dudley's room. Humming was definitely out of character for him, but it was easier to think of nothing and pretend everything was okay with some out-of-tune melody renting the air. He turned around and buried his face in his pillow. The make believe Ginny he had created in his head was the only thing that kept him sane. He loved having her face and voice in his head all the time. No...no he'd have to kill these thoughts now, he decided, while they were still young, before it became too late. They were too inappropriate, too...

"Inappropriate like hell...yeah... you got that right..." Asshole interrupted, unhelpfully.

"Godamn amazing is what it is.

" he muttered, his thoughts drifting, all resolve abandoned. She was a veritable angel; red hair just the perfect blend of the most becoming shades, chocolate brown eyes that literally melt the soul, the most divine smattering of perfectly sized freckles...oh and her mouth...GOD! those brilliantly formed lips which were just the right twinge of pink; those just had to taste heavenly. How he wished he could just stick his...

"Now you're crossing some …..."Asshole began, but was interrupted rather rudely.

"No...don't...don't stop, I liked where that was going, Harry was going to stick his..." Ginny started.

"Tongue..." Harry blurted quickly, turning a hitherto undiscovered shade of red. He didn't even care that he had yelled it out loud. "I was gonna say tongue...Ginny don't give me that look..." He imagined her with a classic 'caught-with-my-hand-in-the-cookie-jar' expression; uncontrollable grin, playful hint of a blush, eyes cast downwards and one hand clutching the other arm. "...you know I was going to say tongue..." He did the mental equivalent of grabbing a tuft of his hair in frustration, hoping that the real Ginny wasn't this torturesome.

"That would still border on the obscene." Asshole said. "Anyway, as amusing as this little episode has been it is not helping the cause ..."

"Which is...?"

"Killing these thoughts while they're still young..."

"Are we actually conversing?" Harry growled mentally, spitting out the last word with a disgusted expression on his face. "Shouldn't I just be able to …...I don't know... turn you off or something?" He would have really liked to; he was finding it increasingly hard to keep Ginny in his head whenever Asshole started ranting, and she was just so much better company.

"Well, it looks like you can't," then more softly, "ain't that a bitch..."

Harry sighed, plucking a Daily Prophet from the nightstand. He propped it open, and began to read; well not so much read as glancing off words at random. He felt like a pawn, at the mercy of the sadistic whims and machinations of some unseen entity, some cosmic asshole. Like being in a work of fiction, with the author being the cosmic asshole; someone who just couldn't get enough of giving him a hard time.

'Make believe Ginny' giggled. Harry groaned. He'd have to chose his words more carefully from now on. "We'll, at this rate, that author won't be keeping this PG for much longer." he thought, with a wry smile. He let his thoughts drift once again, but was brought back to earth rather rudely.

"She's Ron's baby sister for Godsakes! You just cannot think of her that way...that would be …...that would...that would make you a pedophile!" Asshole yelled in his head. He knew that all these thoughts came from himself, but just then, he did not want to ever have thought that! So no, as far as he was concerned, Asshole was a completely unrelated personality, lodged inside his brain, trying to keep him away from Ginny by spinning wild accusations. Pedophile indeed! Harry would show him.

A rap on the window interrupted his thoughts. He craned his neck upwards to look at the window. It was Hedwig. She was back early, Harry noted, as he swung his legs over to sitting position, reached up and unlatched the window. The majestic white snow owl swooped gracefully over and allowed her master detach the letter from her talons. It was from Sirius, he noted, excited. He unfolded the letter, and began reading expectantly.

Dear Harry,

I'm not going to ask you how you're feeling. If you are anything like your dad, that would just worsen your mood. Having said that, I am entitled to worry about my godson; and Bucky here agrees with me.

Run in's with Voldemort are not happy experiences and I know you're still reeling from that little episode; and blaming yourself for almost getting your friends killed. So you're going back home kiddo. The Weasleys are coming over to get you tomorrow. Yup, its the Burrow for you. Am I the best godfather ever or what? I had a little mano-a-mano with Dumbledore, and he's agreed. I can't stay there, for obvious reasons, but Dumbledore's putting up new security additions at the Burrow for your stay and he thinks it'd be okay for me to visit. So, don't brood, enjoy your vacations, and...I don't know... get a girlfriend or something.



P.S Bucky sends his regards.

Harry cheered silently. This was great; his stay at the Dursleys would be cut short by a month. Even Asshole seemed to have left him alone; he hadn't acted up in the last ten or so odd minutes it had taken him to read and re-read the letter. We'll things did seem to be looking up.

He'd get to see Ginny, he realized, all of a sudden, with a swooping sensation at the pit of his stomach. The thought of seeing Ginny again scared and elated him like nothing quite had before. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this nervous. He just hoped he could keep it together and not make a complete fool of himself. He grinned stupidly. Well, he'd sure as hell try.

There was a mild knock on the door. Not the authoritative rap so characteristic of any of the Dursleys. So Harry was more than just mildly surprised when he opened the door to admit in Dudley.

Harry took him in. He had peaked over the summer. Notably. And his hair was a little more unkempt. Other than that, he was as Dudley as could be.

"What can I do you for, Dudders?" Harry asked, coolly.

Dudley's face was red and scrunched up into a pained expression, like it did when a conversation was getting to complicated for him to follow (something which happened alarmingly often), or when he was told he couldn't get something. It wasn't pretty.

"Dude why..." there was a pause. He seemed to be working out all the possible repercussions of asking what was on his mind. It was highly possible that he did not want to piss off Harry. The incident with the Dementors last summer seemed to have lent Harry a scarier persona in his cousin's eyes than Harry gave himself credit for. When he looked on the verge of exploding, Harry decided to spare him the trouble.

"Just ask Dudley."

"Umm …... Dude, just how messed up are you're nightmares?"

Harry was taken aback. That was twice Dudley had caught him off guard in less than a minute; and given Dudley's span for originality, that was saying something. Was there genuine concern to Dudley's tone. No, It couldn't possibly be; Harry was just deluding himself. He was about to say something, but Dudley beat him to it.

"I mean …... why …... why did you yell 'tongue' a while back?"

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