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Ginny Potter - A Harry Potter Fanfiction Archive and Community -- Fictioneer
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Harry Potter Alternate Universe >> Knifes, Guns, and Stolen Kisses by purple389

Simple Text - To view MORE chapters use the chapter jump box to the right.
Her eyes where closing, asking her to give them relief, but she could not, for the fear of the vortex of nightmares would capture her yet again. She picked up her coffee cup, and could only hope that the caffeine would keep her awake.
No such luck. Examining the room, she threw the cup into the piles that lay strewn across the floor. She looked at the books her therapist assigned her. Turning one over, she read;
Are you suffering from PTSD? We all know that feeling…
Already bored, she discarded it into the floor. Her eyes drooped, but she pried them open with the dying strength from her body. But soon, she fell to sleep, nightmares claiming her body.

She was running, her lungs threating to burst. She had no idea how long she had been running.
Her porcelain face was lost, cheeks red from the cold wind biting at her. Shivers ran through her pajama clad body. She could not stop. Her heart pounded hard, and branches bit at her ankles. Panted breaths escaped her cracked lips, and tears of horror cascaded down her face.
Where was she? Why was she running? She heard cackling in the distance. That answered the question. She was scared. But it was no time for thoughts.
Running faster, her mind reminded her that she had a limited time until her body would fall into black oblivion. Gasping for breath, she knew should have to stop soon. Footsteps got nearer, and she fell to the forest floor, welcoming the blackness. Chest heaving, the last thing she saw were red eyes and very sharp teeth.

She woke up, a scream about to pass from her lips, but she held it back. Swearing, she pulled on a hoodie and shuffled her feet into tennis shoes. Opening up the front door, she welcomed the cool gust of air that ran through her sweating face. Flipping up the hood, she trudged down the street, her red hair flooding her dark brown eyes. Walking through the dark alleys of New York, the whispers of cars surrounding her senses calmed her down.
Ginny was a happy girl. But there was a past tense to that. At age 21, she was barley scraping the surface of the life she wanted. She was supposed to have a happy family, a happy life, a husband… She out of all people deserved it. Hardworking, kind, a good person.
If you ever met Ginerva, you would believe she was the average woman. But if you were to ever divulge into a deep conversation with her, it would reveal the hidden truth of who she was.
A lost soul. Plagued by the nightmares of her past, she had no idea where she was going. Ex-Auror, ex-Weasley, ex-a lot of things. No one paid any attention to poor Ginny Weasley, youngest of seven boys. She had been dis-owned when she went through a brief affair with Draco Malfoy, and she regretted every second of it.
She kicked rocks that scattered the alley ways. She held her head down low, and continued walking. Tilting her head, she felt the sun begin to rise, and she headed to work, not bothering to change.
It finally came. The tinkle of a bell that signaled that work was over, and the truth dawning that she would have to face an empty flat. As she dragged her feet home, she wished that her walk would take longer, that she would have another hour, even minute left before she had to go home. Finally, she came to her apartment door.
The door creaked as she opened it, and she pushed past her sofa, and moved towards her bedroom. Sitting at her vanity, she stared at the numerous empty bottles of concealer that lined the shelf. Looking at her was the hollow expression of a person that once was there.
Her red locks where cut choppily, clouding her face. Bags captivated her eyes, themselves a dull expression of who she once was. Her face was white, and she was thin, almost as if she was to be blown away by the next gust of wind. Her cheekbones where hollow, and her fingers long and thin, paper cuts surrounding them, memoirs of her work at the library. She pulled her hair back to a ponytail and picked herself up, only to fall on the floor. Staring at the perpetrator, she was met by her wand. Picking it up, she felt the overwhelming sense of memories flood in her head.

The smell of Mums cooking…
Undercover work at the Auror department…
Ginny looked at her partner Josh Night. His black hair swept over his eyes, and his smirk was gone, and he was falling to the floor, green light surrounding him…
Kingsley looked at her and said, "Your mission is to infiltrate the Green dragons, and bring them down. They are solely responsible for the distribution of Felicitas in Iacto, of happiness in faze, or a stronger form of Meth. It is the 5th most leading cause of Death in this world….
Breathe. It was hard, for her arms where held up in chains, and slashes made up her torso. She didn't even want to acknowledge her legs; all she knew was that they were numb from pain. She sucked in another breath as the Cructatius Curse was cast over her body…
She saw the white light of the hospital and its blinding her. She screams at the needles, and denies what she has.
She looked at Diagon Alley for one last time, and finally dropped her Auror badge on the floor. Time stopped. The whole Alley was looking at her now, and she said the words.
"Magicalis nexus fractus accepta sum usque adhuc."
My magical connection broken, until I am accepted again.

Ginny dropped the wand, her eyes wide with fear. It was happening again. She was receiving the memories she tried to block for so long, and more where piling in.
What was that number to the therapist again?

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