Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
I didn't know exactly when I had realized that I was trapped. Trapped into an imprisonment under the guise of a relationship. I never even realized how deep I was in before it was too late. Too late to do anything but hope that I would at least live through it, hope that he would find another to capture and cage like a helpless bird.
No, that was wrong. I would much rather that it be I than someone else. Why should I try and force his wrath upon anyone else? Especially when it was only me that was being slowly eaten from the inside out, parts of me dying more every day. I was only Ginny Weasley, younger sister of Ron Weasley and follower of the Golden Trio. I wasn't important; at least not as important as anyone else that Potter might decide to destroy next. I snorted as I pulled on tight muggle clothes, requested by the holy Potter himself. I sneered his name in my mind, grabbing my wand and waving the thin piece of wood, garish makeup instantly covering my face in a hideous mask. I only glanced at myself in the mirror once, ashamed to look so cheap.
I cast a Disillusionment Charm, and headed out of the dormitories. He always wanted me in the dead of night—I was to meet him down in the dungeons at midnight. One of the only questions I had ever asked him was why he met me in the dungeons. Shoving me harshly against the cold, stone wall, I had stifled a whimper as he had snarled at me, low and menacing:
"Because all the bloody prefects are scared shitless of the fucking Slytherins," he had hissed, grabbing me roughly. "No patrols are going to have the balls to come down here and stop me from fucking you."
I slipped through the empty common room, before sliding out the portrait hole. It was true, though; we had never been stopped, unfortunately. Draco Malfoy was Head Boy, and Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson were the Slytherin prefects. It was common knowledge that Malfoy and Zabini were too busy shagging each other's brains out and Parkinson just didn't give a shit to actually do what they were supposed to do. So since the beginning of my fifth year I had been subjected to his meetings, six days a week, and no one was there to stop Potter.
It wasn't that I was a bad witch. Far from it, actually. I was at the head of my class, and was already halfway through the seventh year books, learning the spells. I had just been stupid and trusting. When he had first asked me out, I was willing to try and like him, for the sake of the few years that I had fancied myself in love with him. And for the first two weeks, he had been wonderful: charming, polite, and exceedingly nice. But then…trusting him, I had allowed him to cast a spell on me, before I had thought of the effects.
He had told me that it was to make me feel more amorous for him, since he knew that I didn't really like him. I don't know where he had gotten then spell, since I was practically doing the same curriculum as him on the side, but I was willing to give it a try. I let him cast it, and that night was the first in a string of many where he raped me. The spell hadn't made me "amorous;" he had somehow found a spell that disabled me from using my magic against him, at all.
I might have been a chaser, but my tiny and lithe body was no match for his taller and more muscular seeker's build. Physically, he would beat me every time. He was a boy, a year older than me, and infinitely larger and stronger than I could ever wish to be. I had no hope, especially when I lost the advantage I had with my magic.
The first time I had tried to go to Ron for help, he'd called me a lying slag, refusing to believe what I had said against his precious Harry-fucking-Potter. Hermione was my next choice, but she too denounced what I had to say, telling me that I was only trying to get attention and get back at Potter for ignoring me all those years. I had gone to them, seeking help, and they were too blinded by Potter's hero complex to even suspect him of abusing me.
I didn't have anyone else to go to, really. Before I had begun to date Potter, I had hooked up with a few of the boys, but that was all they were. Quick hook ups. I had friends, too, but for the most part people preferred to avoid me, thinking that I was somehow still influenced by Voldemort like I had been in my first year. That in itself wasn't as horrifying as people had suspected.
Tom had been my doorway to knowledge, so to speak. I had always been interested, but he fed that craving, showing me the truth: there was no such thing as dark or light magic. Magic was only a tool that could be used. It had gained the definitions by frightened witches and wizards who were too ignorant to know the difference. So powerful magic that had been used to do evil was considered "dark," and the less powerful magic was labeled as "light." That was around the time when I had begun to dabble in the dark arts.
Of course, all that magic was completely wasted when I couldn't even use it on the one I abhorred above all others. And Potter was so controlling I hardly had any time to spend with those that I called "friends." We had drifted apart until I had become so introverted that most people hardly saw me, except to note, there goes Potter's girl.
The only time I talked in classes was to answer a question specifically directed at me, and I didn't spend any time in the common room any more, unless it was to walk to my dormitories. I avoided Gryffindor tower as much as possible, since the Golden Trio tended to lurk around there like diseased vultures. Instead, I spent much of my time in the library, or in abandoned classrooms, learning magic that was far too advanced for someone my age to be learning.
I occasionally received owls from Fred and George, hearing about their latest exploits, products, and general news. I had practically severed all communicational ties with the rest of my family, though. They were so bloody ecstatic that I had finally landed their beloved Potter that they didn't even bother to find out how I was feeling in the situation, and the one time I had even begun to hint about how it wasn't going so great in Eden, I had been hushed and told to take what I could get. After that, I had stopped taking mum's owls, and only spoke to the twins any more.
They had picked up on my strange personality switch around, but weren't in any position to do anything. So they did the only thing that they could, and that was to keep me emotionally alive through letters and gifts. Out of my entire family, they were the only ones I cared about, or who cared about me.
I sank back into reality when the temperature starting getting cooler, signaling my arrival in the dungeons. I gripped my wand tightly, knowing that it would be no good against him, but feeling comfort in it nonetheless. My mind starting running through a long list of all the spells I would have liked to use on Potter. It was a shame that I couldn't; I knew that I knew enough spells to make even a Death Eater cringe. I grinned maliciously. If only I hadn't let him cast that spell on me…
At least one good thing had come out of it, though. I would never trust someone so explicitly again.
Suddenly a rough hand grabbed my upper arm, dragging me into a nearby classroom. I snapped my mouth shut over the scream I could feel building. If I even opened my mouth, I knew he'd punish me doubly so. As the door slammed shut, I was practically thrown back into the hard wood, closing my eyes in pain as my already bruised body thumped against the unforgiving wood. I opened them back up just as quickly, though; to show pain was to show weakness. I couldn't afford to give him anything else to hold over me. I heard a muttered Colloportus, effectively locking the door behind us.
"I saw you staring at Longbottom at dinner," he hissed, the grasp on my arm becoming tighter and tighter. I opened my eyes, finding his vivid green eyes narrowed in anger and filled with wild insanity and the promise of pain.
"I was only—" I didn't get the chance to get anything else out, because, lightning fast, his hand whipped up and across my face, my neck twisting so fast I was surprised I hadn't broken it. I remembered what he was talking about; for nearly five minutes, I had tried to regain the courage to talk to Neville about Harry, since we used to be pretty close. But I had lost my nerve when I had glanced to Harry sitting next to me, his gaze filled with veiled hatred.
"I don't care what you were doing, only that you were doing it!" he snarled at me, shaking me for emphasis. "You're mine, and you should fucking know by now that you shouldn't even think about someone else!" I didn't say anything, and that alone earned me another slap, before he viciously rammed his lips onto mine, biting until I opened my mouth and he forced his tongue through.
My hand tightened on my wand, but that was the only sign that I was affected. Otherwise, I was unmoving and cold, just the way he hated it. I felt as if something was different tonight, off; maybe it was going to be a chance to get away. On a handful of occasions I had run from him, but that always proved to be worse when he finally caught up with me. But the few minutes of reprise that I gained was worth it every time.
Panting, he pulled away from me to glare at me some more.
"Fucking unfeeling bitch," he snapped, squeezing tighter and tighter on my wand arm until I was forced to release my wand and begin to buckle to release the pain slightly. "Think you can stop me by acting like you don't like it. But I know otherwise; I'm Harry Potter, and girls would die to be in your position."
Even nearly bent in half from the way he had begun to twisting my arm, I couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped me. Girls wouldn't die to be in my position; they'd rather die than be in my position. Of course, I regretted laughing almost immediately, because his grip tightened even further before I felt him throwing me back against the door.
I gasped in pain as my head collided and colors erupted across my vision. Woozy, I blearily guessed that I had been concussed by his little "love tap" there. I stared at the dirty stones, trying to regain my equilibrium as I heard him swearing at me overhead. Occasionally he would allow me to recover somewhat before he continued his onslaught; this was apparently one of those times. Usually, though, those were the times I managed to escape. This time wasn't going to be any different.
While he was distracted, I murmured Alohomora, unlocking the door. I glanced up discreetly to find him venting his frustrations on a nearby table. That surprised me slightly; usually, he took every opportunity that he could to hurt me. I didn't dwell on it long, though. In seconds, I was dashing through the door and up the hallway, trying to go somewhere, anywhere.
I couldn't hear him for maybe half a second, before his muffled curses and breathing drifted to my ears, his feet thumping heavily on the ground. I was sprinting for all I was worth, my own feet practically flying through the air and hardly even touching the ground at all. It was useless, though; he had much longer legs than me, and my only hope was to get to the Room of Requirement. After all, if I went to Gryffindor tower, he'd only make it up there too, since he knew the password as well. But the Room of Requirement…well, if I required him to stay the fuck away from me, the room would give me what I wished.
The only problem was that I had to reach seventh floor without Potter catching up to me, all the way from the dungeons, which was one hell of a sprint. Plus, I'd have to run in front of the door three times before it would open, and I couldn't exactly ask Potter to wait for me. I could see how that conversation would go…
"Potter, just wait for half a minute while I pace in front of this door here. Once it appears, I'm going to slip inside, effectively escaping you. Thanks for understanding."
I was halfway down the Charms corridor on the third floor when Potter finally got me. With a completely unnecessary spell, too; Sectumsempra wouldn't have been needed to get me to stop, and he definitely didn't need to rip open my right leg. With a cry, I hit the ground, feeling the warm blood already soaking through my jeans and dampening the thin fabric. I rolled to a halt on my left leg, my right leg useless and splayed out behind me. I could only hope that he hadn't slashed a tendon or anything vital, but with the amount of pain it was causing me, it was pretty hard to be sure.
"You bloody bastard!" I spat out, drawing my wand for an ineffectual threat. He had finally caught up, panting heavily as he shot me a death glare. The moonlight coming from a nearby window cast his face into shadows, turning it an eerie and grotesque shape that I couldn't help but think reflected his true personality. His eyes glinted cruelly, one cast in shadow and one covered in the silver moonlight.
"You fucking think that you can fuck around with me and get away with it, and you have for the past bloody year! I am not fucking letting you destroy me any further! First you turn my blasted family against me, and then you force my fucking friends away, after you raped me countless fucking times, and I haven't been able to do a damn thing about it!" He sneered, lashing out with his right leg with wicked fast speed and causing me to nearly faint clear away when he struck the gash on the back of my leg.
"That's because you're so fucking useless! Nobody cares about you enough to even see what's going on right in front of them! And if you think they're going to fucking sit up and see it now, well, you're more off your rocker than I thought!" We were careful to keep our voices to seething whispers, because it just wouldn't do to have a shouting match a little between twelve and one in the morning. And on a school night, to boot.
I was glaring venomously at him, but it did no use, since the expression vanished as he reached down and slapped me to the floor. This time, I stayed down. I just hurt so much, and it was much more comfortable here on the floor than it was sitting up, especially with Potter ready to kill me…
I still had my eyes squeezed shut tightly and my blood slowly leaking out of my leg when I heard the icy voice, laced with fury and impending violence, float through the air, somewhere on the side away from Potter.
"Just what the fuck do you think you are doing, Potter?"
A/N: My first attempt at fan fiction. Like, dislike? Review, and let me know. : )
Note: I got all the spells off of Wikipedia, and a map of the castle off of HP Lexicon.