Disclaimer: If I owned them, you'd be paying to read this. Trust me you're not.

A/N: A lot of introspect here, but the plot will thicken later, this is just an introduction to Ginny's state of mind.

Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive…
Goo Goo Dolls 'Iris'

Virginia Weasly was running. Not towards anything but running because she wanted desperately to be free. It was the last few days of school and classes had ended. Everyone had been in the Gryfinndor common room, gather their things, cleaning out cobwebs and finding the socks that had been missing for months before they left Hogwart's for the summer. Ron was tripping over suitcases while to trying to get Hermione alone for a minute 'to make sure he had written down all his assignments'. (Who did he think he was kidding?) And Harry kept muttering about an' important date' he had to uphold that day.
And through it all Ginny had sat watching them holler, toss things, laughing and joking and had felt like she was a one-man audience watching a colorful play going past her eyes. It was as though she was suddenly removed from the world of her friends and family…and with out realizing what had happened she had to get away. So she had left unnoticed and began to walk out to the grounds surrounding Hogwart's. She walked faster and faster until she started running and before she knew it, her robes were discarded in the grass and she ran in only a light sundress Hermione had bought her for Christmas. Her hair fell down and streamed behind her in a copper tangle, free for the mischievous fingers of the wind to play with. And she felt it all slip away; the tender ache that had resided in her chest for so long seemed to dim in the sun light and racing colors that flashed passed her eyes as she tore up the hill side.
When she reached the top of the hill she stopped, out of breath, hair flying about her small face. And she began to spin; letting the energy flow freely from her and feeling all the frustration leave her fragile body. As she spun in dizzy circles it suddenly didn't matter that Ron would always treat her like she was a helpless ten-year-old and the Harry would never know she was alive. It didn't matter that Fred and George had forgotten her birthday and that Hermione was too busy being in love to notice how lonely she was. She was free and she didn't need any of them.
In her freedom, she felt an energy rise from deep in her soul. And with a bursting laugh she released it to flow freely from her. In response she felt them come. Just one or two at first that flashed by her spinning eyes like bits of live silver. The faeries had come! She had called them with her soul and if she didn't fall over she knew they would dance with her…even if she was small and freckled. It was a gift to be able to call the faerie people.

Finally exhausted she allowed herself to fall to the ground, happier than she had been in months and months. Life would go on despite her fears and doubts. It always did.
Ginny pulled herself up, still dizzy and tripped down the hill, ready to face the frenzy of the common room. Then, as she entered the courtyard Ginny suddenly stopped. Harry was there, pacing up and down looking rather nervous. 'Poor bloke,' thought Ginny 'it must get pretty lonely for him with Ron and Hermione suddenly disappearing at all times giving the lamest excuses ever thought of by the wizard race. Last time Ron actually said he was helping Hermione wax her legs! Dear Merlin do we look stupid to him or something?'
Her thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of a rather lovely girl with lipid eyes and long flowing black hair. Cho Chang. Suddenly Ginny felt her mood changing. She was too far away to hear what they were saying. And she didn't want to know. Her fragile state of happiness depended on not hearing Harry plead a love case to the older smarter prettier Cho. But before she could turn and flee it happened. The kiss. Harry was kissing her. Cho's protests died down as she left her arms wrap around his neck…
Ginny felt herself slipping. Her insides turned to mush and heart stopped all together. For one horrible moment she was sure she would die right then. But she didn't. Instead she turned around and walked slowly to the Gryfinndor common room. The noise had died down and people were lounging about tired out from a hard day's work. Ginny walked silently to her bed, still too stunned to react to what she had seen. She couldn't think, only walk like someone possessed by an Imperious Curse. Ginny sat on her bed and began to mechanically pack the clothes scattered around her.
As she shoved her possessions absently in the chest, her fingers brushed upon a picture that hung out of one of her pockets. Harry Ron and Hermione were all waving madly at her dressed in the horrible wool jumpers her mom knitted them every Christmas. Seeing him there, smiling up at her, finally snap her fine hold of control. And sobbing she sank slowly to the floor.


After an eternity the tears finally did stop. Exhausted, Ginny lifted herself off the floor and was amazed to find how tired she was. She stretched and looked at her watch. 'Great Merlin! It's been two hours! I have to get my things packed and get ready to go home...' she thought back to the scene she had seen earlier. The dull ache had come back to her ten fold.
'I can't live like this. I can't. I have work to do and things to accomplish…My world can't start and stop with Harry or I'll go mad! I always feel like my life will fall apart when he pushes me aside or doesn't notice me and the worst part is that it doesn't. It doesn't end, the sun keeps rising and setting and I have to go on.' She knew that the whole Harry Potter crush had grown into an inoperable brain tumor in her life. 'I can live, if I could just get rid of this ache. This bitter gnawing ache…' she thought, knowing tears were threatening again. Tears she didn't have time for. And almost like she was in a trance, she reached into the very very bottom of her oak chest. A month ago at Hogsmeade, she had gone shopping with Hermione, who need something special to 'make sure Ron didn't forget her during the summer'. 'Ha,' Ginny had thought, 'Show up in dress that short and you can bet he won't forget you.' She had had some pocket money on her and at one of the shops a small silver knife had caught her eye. It had a very delicate blade with a handle shaped like a blaze of silver faeries. Ginny had bought it on impulse and considered it one of the few little articles that were hers alone. But that didn't matter. At that moment Ginny took the blade rubbed the broad edge up and down her arm. It felt so cool against her pale skin…
"Ginny! You haven't packed anything! What are you going to do tomorrow?"
Ginny froze at the sound of Hermione rushing into the dorm flushed and excited trying to frantically control her bushy hair. She quietly slipped the knife into the pocket of her sundress and looked up innocently at Hermione, forcing a smile across her face.
"I felt so tired today…you know between the twins' ribbing and all. I'll pack tomorrow."
"Yes well, you did get all your assignments? I don't know how I will be able to do anything at all but study this summer. With our last year right around the bend…"
"Oh, I'm sure Ron will think of something to distract you," Ginny said struggling to keep all traces of bitterness from her voice.
Hermione was giggling in a very un-hermione like way. "Yes well, whatever his faults, no one can say Ron is not creative."
Ginny couldn't help but smile. The change in Hermione since Ron had weaseled his way into her affections was to say the least astounding. She did tend to let her hair down more…though it was not quite clear whether that was due to Hermione loosening up, or the fact that Ron always had his hands tangled in it. Ginny was happy for them, (anything was better then the two years of Ron, swinging between anger depression and denial over his feelings for Hermione. People who thought men in love were cute obviously never lived with them) But she just wasn't in the mood for blushing and giggles. The ache in her heart wouldn't let her enjoy it.
"Hermione, I think I left my robes out on the lawn today when I was running. I'll just go get them before Filch and Mrs. Norris find them." Ginny quickly got up pushing her matted hair out of her eyes. Hermione was obviously off in her own world as she just nodded and murmured something about not staying out too late after hours.
Ginny fled and absently searched for a room-any room- where she could be alone. 'I'll get my robes in the morning,' she thought as she shut the door to an empty chamber on the floor above her dorms. It was dark and musty and in the shadows of the night the room at first looked empty, but as her eyes adjusted to the dark she could see that it was some sort of storage space for old artifacts and curiosities. There were portraits of wizards who were long dead and strange animals that had been stuff to look real and alive again not to mention a litter of old dusty books. The room reeked of the dead and decayed. It was eerie. It was dank. It was just what she was looking for.
Slowly she took out the knife weighing it gently in the palm of her hand. She traced the lines on her palm with the tip of knife pressing lightly just so that it tickled slightly. Then she looked at the dorsal side of her hand and studied the lines that creased over her fingers. Calmly, deliberately, she cut a small vertical line over the joint of her index finger. It hurt, leaving a slight burning sensation and a tiny trail of blood that dried almost instantly. The pain in her hand made the ache in her heart hurt just a little bit less. So she cut again. And again. And again. She made hair fine cuts over her fingers and little angel cuts around her wrists. Travelling upwards, she made lace like cuts over her arm and a little lightening shaped cut in the hollow of her elbow. Like Harry's. Little cuts that left almost no blood but stung like lemon juice in your eye. They would heal in a few days, and leave no scars, or if they did, they would be little silver scars that no one would see.
Her hand hurt so much she was sure she would not be able to write for at least a day. And for all the pain of her cutting, the ache in her heart felt bearable like she could control it now. She could move on. It was high time she grew up anyway; she was going to be sixteen in a few months as it was. And life stubbornly continued despite crushed hopes and disappointments. But she would keep her blade with her all the same.

It might be useful, in the coming year.