WARNING: NOT TO BE TAKEN -SIRIUS-ly.. At all. My friend and I were walking through a desert of urban despair, and we came across a hidden lake.. And this story came to me (true story. I swear on my pre-ordered copy of Half Blood Prince). So don't read this if there's a stick up your ass, because its meant as pure humor.. ) Phantom is an amazing movie, I suggest you see it. This, however, is what one would call a spoof. (What a fun word!)
Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Phantom of the Opera.. And if I did, I'd be in a bed somewhere between Sean Biggerstaff and Gerard Butler.. Cheers.
Here it comes...
DUUUUNNNN, DUN DUN DUN DUN DUHHH!
Hermione Granger gazed up at the opera house in awe. She never thought she would make it back here again, and the memories it brought her made her rethink this visit.
This place reminded her of her old school friends. She hadn't spoken to them in the ten long years since Harry and Voldemort had their battle. That horrible battle.. So much pain. It was the last time she had ever seen Harry. His memory gave her a jolt- What was she doing here, anyway?
Oh, she knew what she was doing there. She was trying to get her life back. She and Ron had been sweethearts in school and had rushed into marriage shortly after graduation. Now, barely a decade later, it was over. Over in every sense of the word, as it hadn't ended prettily.
So, what choice did she have? She had to face her fears and come back here, where it had all ended. Lives had ended here, along with Ron's compassion for his own life. Hermione had tried to stand by him, after all, he had lost his best friend, but after ten years of being invisible, she had to get out. She had to be seen, appreciated, and loved. What female didn't deserve that?
A timid voice shook Hermione out of her thoughts. She turned and saw that the voice belonged to a small girl with long, dirty red hair. The girl was wearing a dirty short skirt over torn stockings, brown boots, a thin gray sweater, and she was shivering uncontrollably. The only recognizable thing to Hermione were the girl's bright brown eyes, though they weren't as bright as they had once been. Hermione's jaw dropped open as she made the shocking revelation-
"Hey, Hermione, how are you?" Ginny walked slowly across the street, as if she couldn't get her balance. Hermione studied her and quickly calculated; Ginny would be about 25 or 26 now, but she looked like she was 14.
"Ginny," She said, forcing a smile on her face and hugging her old friend in a way not to get her own clothes too dirty. "What are you doing here? Nobody's heard from you in years!"
Ginny looked Hermione up and down. "Forget me, look at you! You look great. How's my favorite sister?"
Hermione held up her naked ring finger. "Ex- sister.. But I'm fine. Ginny, really, what are you doing here?"
Ginny sighed and looked away. "Trying to stay alive," she said. "So, what did my brother do this time?" She gave Hermione a sly grin.
Hermione frowned. "Nothing, and stop dodging questions. I'm going to get straight to the point- Where the hell have you been all these years?"
An eager looking man was making his way towards Ginny, and he waved as she looked up.
"Uh, Mione. Why don't we get something to eat? Take over coffee or whatever." Now the redhead looked apprehensive. "Come on." She grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her into a café. Hermione was staring at the man over her shoulder.
"The regular table, Dave," Ginny called to a waiter, then walked over to a table in the back before waiting to be seated. The café was pure sleazy, with cigarette burns in the chairs and gritty dirt on the floor. Ginny got straight down to business.
"I don't doubt that you remember what happened here 10 years ago. After everything that happened.. Well, we all know how I felt..feel, about Harry. After losing him here, I have a connection with this place. Right before the duel, he told me he loved me, Hermione. And if living here and selling myself to.. Prostitution, for goodness's sake, ok, prostitution! If selling myself means maybe capturing his memory, or something more, I'll stay here forever." She glared defiantly at Hermione, as if expecting the smart girl to say something daunting.
"Ginny. Why didn't you just come home? He's gone, ok? He's been gone for a decade. Just.. When I go back to London, come with me." Hermione was basically thinking that her friend had cracked.
"I can't face my mother after this life, are you kidding?" Now tears were pooling in the corners of Ginny's eyes. "Hermione.. Please, understand. I can't go back. He's.. here. In the air, in the music, in the dirt, even."
"Ok.. Well.. I'm here on business."
A bit of Hermione's old superiority shone through. "I'm an auror now. And on my vacation, the new owners of the Opera House offered me a room. Come on, let's see if I can get one for you too."
The opera house was bright and as beautiful as could be. It still had the dorms for those who performed in it, just as Hermione had suspected.
As it turned out, Madame Giry, the ballet instructor, was now in charge. She took in the state of Ginny and gave her that slow, reassuring smile.
"My dear, you have been in love."
Ginny blinked at her. "How do you..-"
"So you'll give her a room?" Hermione interrupted her tartly.
Madame Giry glanced at Hermione. "Yes, she can stay here as long as she needs."
"But I have no money," Ginny said, throwing up her hands.
"Ah, you stay with Giry, my girl, and we'll get you settled back into your life."
Ginny was still frowning a bit. "But how will I earn my keep?"
"How about this," Madame Giry said with a wink. "Why don't you stand in as a backup for me?"
"Done," said Hermione, picking up her bags and beginning to walk. "Ginny has studied ballet, she'll make a fine chorus girl."
"No," Giry said firmly. Hermione stopped in her tracks and dropped her bags. "She will sing."
"I'm not a singer," Ginny said suddenly.
"You will be," Giry said. "I know just the teacher."
A few hours later, Ginny was standing in the middle of a fire-lit room, clutching her small tattered duffel bag. A knock at the door adjoining her room to Hermione's made her jump.
'Get with it, Ginevra,' she thought, irritated. 'It feels like just walking into this place.. Woke up my body or something.' She threw her bag on the bed, straightened her dirty clothes, and opened the door.
Hermione was wearing a silly long dressing gown and holding a matching gown and a cup in her hands.
"I didn't know if you had anything comfortable to sleep in, and I brought you some milk," she said with a big grin.
Ginny nodded. "Thanks," she said, and, without any shame, shed her clothes right in front of Hermione.
Hermione frowned. "Ginny, do you ever eat?" she asked, taking in her friends emaciated body.
"Sometimes," Ginny said with a rueful grin. "Dave from the diner usually doesn't mind handing out a free meal. Then again, as you know, nothing comes for free.." She quietly began to cry.
"I'll ... I'll let you get some sleep, then." Hermione had never really understood emotions; She could tell you anything out of a book that you needed to hear, but when you needed a hand to hold and heart to understand, she was never really sure what to do. She quietly exited, taking one last glance at her friend; Ginny's hair, which was long and hanging down her back, was glowing in the firelight. Her face was pale and almost gaunt, tears slowly making streaks. She looked almost lost in Hermione's big nightgown, and Hermione estimated that she couldn't even be 100 lbs.
After Hermione left, Ginny sat in front of the window, and started to sing; When times got hard, she always sang. Molly Weasley had taught her this trick, and she often sang the songs her mother had sung to her as a child.
As she watched the snow falling, she caught the hint of a familiar scent.
She quickly stood up and looked around. "Harry?" she called. Then she laughed, and talked out loud to herself so as to be reassured by the sound of her own voice. "You're cracking up, Ginevra... He's gone, get over it. God this place is scary at night." She took a sip of the milk Hermione had brought her.
"It needn't be," said a strong voice from beside the door. Ginny spit out the milk, as ungracefully as possible.
"AHH!" was the spurt of genius that came out of her mouth. She whipped around and came face to face with .. Was that a skeleton? No, it was a mask. A cloaked man in a mask. The fire made the man's big green eyes glow, as if there were a circuit behind the mask lighting them up. The mask only covered half of his face, and the naked half was so familiar that it was intoxicating to Ginny.
She stared at him, afraid that he'd disappear if she moved. He offered her a small grin and began to speak.
"So, you're calling yourself Ginevra now?"
"You're not real," Ginny whispered. He walked to her, coming so close that she could smell him. He lifted a hand to wipe away the single tear trailing down her cheek.
"I'm only real if you want me to be."
" Harry." She fell and he caught her, holding her close to him. "I knew you were still alive." With that, she fainted.
"If you only knew," he whispered, picking her up and carrying her out the door as he remembered, all too well, that fateful trip he had taken to the opera house with his friends ten years before, when Voldemort was still after him...
A/N: ok, ok, ok, as I stated, this is meant as a joke, haha. But I'm having so much fun writing it.. Ok, readers, The sequel to Destined is under way. My computer broke, and then I lost my word perfect.. From now on, I'll be leaving information about the progress of my stories on my user-info page. So, if I don't update for ages, or you want to know about something, just look there. It feels so great to be writing again! )