Ginny tilts her head back and takes a swig out of her champagne bottle. It's sweet, sickly sweet and the bubbles burst in her mouth before she swallows the liquid. Large gulps. One. Two. Three. Drinks it, downs it, quickly so that the buzz will hit her sooner.

She throws the half-empty bottle away, and the golden liquid glugs out onto the grass, all going to waste. She ignores it and sits astride her lover. He pulls her t-shirt up around her head, exposing her naked body to the cold, unforgiving night air.

Fucking outdoors is one of the ways she gets her kicks these days.

And she undoes his trousers with complete boldness, wanting him to take her, or for her to take him. It's all the same to her, it doesn't matter.

And she breathes an 'oh' as she feels him enter her, and it's perfect, so perfect as she presses herself to him, kisses him deep, feeling him take everything away with his mouth, his arms, his body.

Fuck me.

She digs her nails into his back, and he holds her close to him, holds her tiny waist in his hands. Ginny. His Ginny. Little, crazy, sexy Ginny Weasley. Less than half his age, but he can't help himself. No-one can help themselves around her.

He thinks vaguely about his girlfriend, up at the Weasleys' house, probably wondering where he's gone. He and Ginny slipped away from the party earlier this evening. Bill and Fleur's wedding reception. And his girlfriend is still there. He feels bad, but she can't find out. No-one can ever know…

Remus Lupin pulls Ginny closer to him as she sinks her teeth into his neck, digging deep, drawing blood.

She knows that you have to hurt if you want to feel anything at all.


She draws on a cigarette by her bedroom window, watching the first rays of dawn spread out over the fields. She drags deep, feeling the smoke burn her tongue, her throat, and she holds the smoke in her lungs, feeling them burn before she exhales.

And when she's finished she presses the lit end to her finger-tip. Not for long, just long enough for a good little hurt. A hurt that might get her through the day.


Ginny didn't know when it had started. She didn't know when she realised that she wanted to fuck Remus Lupin, her old teacher. Remus Lupin, her friend's fiancée.

Remus knew. He had been staying at the Weasleys', and everyone had gone out to work or gone shopping. Ginny had come across the fields at eight in the morning, sneaking in after a night of partying, her tiny form barely covered by her clothes. Bright purple mini-skirt, black and white striped socks, navy blue vest top. Her make-up was smudged and smeared all over her face. Her eyes were huge and tired. Her lips were chapped and sore. Her red hair was lank, fluttering like litter in the breeze. She looked trashy, destroyed, a wrecked beauty.

A few days later, Ginny had taken his hand and led her to his bedroom, and he had not refused her. He had gone along silently, willing to do anything to posses this ruined girl.


I am Ginny Weasley!

This is what she says to herself as Remus kisses the top of her head in bed one day. They're lying quietly, talking about everything and nothing. And for once she is Ginny Weasley. Not Ron's sister, not the Weasley girl, not Harry Potter's ex, but GINNY WEASLEY. He cares. He knows her. He asks about her life, and about what she'd like to do with herself in the future.

She doesn't love him. Not even a little bit. But he's good-looking, interesting and a good fuck. She likes the thrill of ruining a good man. And she wants to hold on to this feeling. As she kisses down his stomach she knows that she needs this validation of being, this ability to forget, and so she must keep him. She kisses further down his stomach and, oh, she'll do anything for him, anything.


Remus feels Tonks' hand weave into his, and she kisses him on the cheek, and he wonders if she knows. Wonders if she can smell pretty, crazy Ginny Weasley on his skin. Because he can never get away from the smell of her. That flowery, wild smell. He can taste her on him, twenty-four seven.

The kid's in too deep. Fuck, he's in too deep, and he knows it. But he can't get himself out. She's like a drug. A pretty, crazy little drug, and he's addicted.

He'll end it. One day he'll pull himself together and walk away. However much he will hate it, he can't possibly feel any worse than he does already for fucking a seventeen year old behind his girlfriend's back.


Ginny pushes her fingers into her mouth, down her throat, feeling the fleshy pulpiness of it. And her stomach heaves, heaves, and oh, that's it! Foot and water and acid spill out of her moth in vomit, shooting into the toilet bowl like a Technicolor waterfall.

She heads back into her bedroom and downs some gin straight from the bottle, feeling the burn down her throat as it washes the taste of the vomit away. She slams the bottle down on the table, pulling the razor blade out of her pocket. She sits back on her bed and zips the blade across her arm. Nothing. Just a tiny scrape. She doesn't even draw blood. So she does it again, digging deep this time, and blood flows red to the surface. Glorious, warm, crimson blood, flowing down her arm. Oh yes, oh yes.


Remus doesn't know what she wants out of this. He's asked her, but she won't say. He's not actually sure whether he wants to know. She's got cuts on her body, and she won't say how she got them. And she's getting thinner. He can see her ribs through her pale skin. As he holds her he feels like she's going to snap in his arms.

She's not well. He knows that. And he tries to help her, tries to get her to talk about it, but she won't. Any questions about Harry, or about Tom Riddle's diary, she answers with two little words.

Fuck me.


Ginny doesn't know what to think about the war. She knows she should hate Voldemort, that she should hate Tom Riddle. But she can't. She went out with Harry to try and make herself hate him, but she found herself thinking of Tom as she kissed Harry, as she fucked Harry.

She removes Remus' shirt, running her hands over his chest, digging her nails in, oh so slightly.

But Tom won't leave her alone. Not in the depths of the night, when she tries so hard to forget. She worshipped him. Loved him. How can she forget that?

And Remus presses into her and she pulls at his hair, wanting to hurt him, just a little. Make him hurt like she does.

No-one can understand. When Lucius Malfoy slipped that diary into her cauldron he changed her life forever. He led her to Tom. Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort. The love of her life.

Oh, fuck me! Take away all the pain, the agony, the torture of missing him, of wanting him!

If she ever met Lucius Malfoy, she wouldn't know what to think. Would she hate him for ruining her life, or would she thank him for giving it meaning?

She presses herself into Remus. For now, it doesn't matter. She has her Remus, her Lupin, and as she looks into his eyes, seeing only hazy ecstasy, she knows that he is well and truly hers.


Remus heads to Tonks' house. He's going to tell her everything. It's not fair on her to let it carry on like this. He doesn't know what he's going to say when she inevitably asks him to choose who he wants to be with. He has a horrible feeling that if forced he would go for Ginny.

Tonks opens the door, a grin plastered to her face and her hair turning all the different colours of the rainbow.

'Remus, I'm pregnant.'


Ginny storms through the streets, feeling the rain wash over her in streams.

Tonks is pregnant. Pregnant. And now Remus has told Ginny that they can't see each-other anymore. He was her last chance, her final hope of salvation, and now he's gone. They all leave her. All of them.

He gave her reasons, though. Good reasons.

He's going to be a father.

He needs to be responsible.

He can't leave Tonks alone now that she's going to have his baby.

Fuck me.

And he did, one last time. Taking what he wanted before he left her for good. Or was it her who took what she wanted? She didn't know.

He'd still taken it, anyway. Accepted what was offered without question.

Ginny punches the wall and runs her clenched fist along it, grazing her knuckles, bringing blood to the surface.

At least Tom was honest. At least he hadn't pretended to be a good man. He used her, abused her, and she had loved every minute of it.

She slams her head into the wall.

'TOM!'

He doesn't answer, of course. He never answers.

'If you want Tom Riddle to hear you, you'll have to scream a lot louder than that.'

She turns around, and sees Lucius Malfoy standing behind her in the rain. She looks up at this man, the man who ruined her, who made her, and she doesn't know what to say.

He smiles as he walks towards her, and when he reaches her he runs a finger lightly down her cheek.

'I could take you to him, you know,' he says. 'Right now, if you wish it. Just say the word.'

She smiles then. The first real smile she's worn in days, weeks, years.

'Oh yes, please, take me to him!'

He smiles back at her.

'I will. But first,' he brings his hand to her face, gently running his thumb over her lips, 'some service deserves service in return, wouldn't you agree?'

Ginny stares at him for a few seconds, weighing up the options in her mind. Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater. Lucius Malfoy, her father's enemy. Lucius Malfoy, the man who ruined her life.

She grabs him by the front of his robes and drags him into the alleyway behind her.

Fuck me. Fuck me then take me to Tom.


They found her body the next day. Cold, naked, dead in the rain puddles in the alleyway. Unmarked, unharmed. But dead. Hit with Avera Kedavra by Lucius Malfoy after he'd taken what he wanted.

But there was a smile on Ginny Weasley's face. A smile of unholy joy. Because when she died she was so wrapped up in her own happiness she wasn't aware of Lucius raising his wand, or even of the incantation he uttered. She could only think one thought.

I'm coming to you, Tom. I'm coming to you, at last!