I don't want to move, I don't want to think. All I want is to lay here and breath.
Does there need to be more than that in my life? Everything I've ever known is in shambles.
The bed covers rustle next to me but I ignore him. He is in my mind anyway; I always know where he is, what he's thinking, and what he's feeling; just as he knows me.
Yes, that's what he's feeling. But at the same time, it's more—doubled—because I feel it too. That crushing weight in my head, the constricting bands around my chest, gods my mind just doesn't want to flow.
I'm stuck with the same thoughts floating around in circles. The fish, swimming around it's bowl, only, the water is draining, or maybe it's more that the bowl is actually a pot sitting over a fire and waiting to boil. Except, there's nothing left to boil.
The bed covers rustle again and his arm wraps around my stomach. He pulls me closer to his warm chest and breathes slowly into my hair. He's asleep, how lucky.
My eyes stare into the harsh white walls and windows covered with harsh white curtains and a new thought slips into the stagnant pool of my mind.
"Why me? Why us?"
Tom Riddle has fled my mind, forced away by Draco, but the scars still remain. I know my face is tender from recent healing and the healer could not spell away all the bruising.
His arm is half uncovered and I see the red scar, from wrist to elbow. It is the only scar he put on his body himself. The rest were from torture; torment at the hands of his father.
The scar looks nice. It's a good way to end the depression, the nothingness. I know that if I find a knife Draco will aid me. He would cut my wrists just as I would cut his. We could leave together. We could forget this place that has hurt us and leave behind the people who will tear us apart. It would be so easy, so simple.
Draco's breath exhales behind my ear and I can't stop the shiver that's running up my spine.
Such a strong feeling brought on by a simple thing like breathing. I wonder if Draco would ever breathe over another part of my body. Would his sweet breath make my spine shiver? Or make me moan under him? We did that once and it was rape for both of us. We raped each other. I know that. He knows that. It is one of the reasons we both feel depressed.
I should get up, maybe move around a bit and figure out where they took me. I remember the Great Hall in Hogwarts. I remember hearing that Draco had tried to kill himself. And I remember losing control of my emotions and letting my mask fall.
I remember Draco fighting away Tom Riddle in my mind.
Draco shifts beside me and I know he is awake because of the binding that ties us together.
"Ginny, don't leave me." He whispered in a quiet voice. "We can get through this together."
"Do we have to?" I whispered back softly in a broken voice. "Why should we even try?"
"Because there is more than just white walls and no feelings. Ginny, the worst is over and we can grow."
"When you've hit rock bottom," I laughed softly.
Draco finished my thought, "the only place left to go is up."
"Do you think we can?" I know my voice sounded doubtful and that Draco could sense the fear in my mind.
"How do we know until we try?" His answer was clichéd but the feelings his mind wove around those small words, feelings of hope and of positive possibilities, were what made me wonder if we really could.
"After all, we were surviving well enough when we were still under attack." Draco continued. "We made it though school well enough and we continued to exist even after we were pushed repeatedly off the highest of towers by our assailants. Now that we don't have to worry about being beaten or raped we can do even better than before."
I rolled over and buried my nose in his collarbone. "It'll be hard. Just hold my hand the whole way?"
Five minutes later Molly Weasley found her baby girl asleep in the hospital bed with a smile on her face. She had Malfoy's arms wrapped protectively around her fragile body and was clutching his shirt like the lifeline he really was.
As she entered the room Draco's eyes opened. "Have you found a place for us to stay?" He whispered.
"Dumbledore actually thinks it would be best for you two to remain at Hogwarts. He is having the house elves move your belongings to the secret room you share." Molly answered with some trepidation. She had argued for long hours with Dumbledore on the wisdom of taking Ginny away from her family. They would even take in Draco Malfoy if he would help their baby recover.
But Dumbledore had said that they didn't need to be coddled or swaddled with cloth and hidden away. Nor did they need to be smothered with the overprotective feelings of too much care.
"Normalcy is what is most important to their healing." Dumbledore had said. "If they can see that the world still turns and that life goes on, then they can also see that they can re-enter the world and join the passing of time. Hiding them away in the Burrow or in any other safe house will only give them the dark recesses of their damaged minds to contemplate."
"Dumbledore has said that you must attend classes and be in the Great Hall for at least one meal a day. You are to go out on Hogsmeade weekends and to play Quidditch for your house teams. In return you are allowed to do anything you wish while in your room." Molly whispered but her voice was monotonous as if she were reading a speech that Dumbledore had prepared for her.
"We will try." Ginny whispered from the bed. "Thank you mum."
Six Years Later-
"Here is your baby Mrs. Malfoy." The healer handed Ginny her newborn baby girl. "What name should we write on the birth certificate?"
Draco gently put their three-year-old son, Hope Malfoy, onto the bed and let him climb up to the pillow next to his mother.
"Joy." Ginny smiled.
"Joy Malfoy." Draco nodded. "I like it!" He bent down and kissed his wife.
Six years ago they had survived their terrible ordeal on hope and had flourished, especially when Harry had defeated Voldemort and Lucius had died in the attack.
Three years ago hope had brought them a son.
Their son had brought them joy and now they had even more joy in their lives.
The scars still remained and the nightmares would always plague them but now they had Hope and Joy and only memories of what the bottom felt like.
Because life kept going, even at rock bottom, and even if bad things happened they were secure in the knowledge that it would always get better.
A.N. Yes, I will tell you that it is the wrong time of the month and that is why I feel so wretchedly awful. Those feelings Ginny expresses in her first person dialogue about depression and nothingness are exactly what I was feeling before I started writing this chapter (stupid hormones). As I wrote and put my feelings in writing I lost my sense of aloneness and I'm feeling better.
Thank you for reading and understanding that much of what I have posted over the last year is real, is inside me, and inside you.
I hope that you heal and that you always have hope. Because it is true that once you've hit rock bottom the only way left is up.
Now, go read something happy!
"The only way out is up! A leap of faith."
-Rent, Over the Moon