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SIYE Time:6:23 on 29th March 2024
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Silver
By Kate_AnguaPotter

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Category: Post-HBP
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Angst
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 14
Summary: Ginny gains a strong dislike of the colour and situation that dictate her life.
Hitcount: Story Total: 4363







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This was written for the livejournal hpgw_otp colour competition. All the characters and recognisable situations belong to JK Rowling. A big thanks to my fantastic beta, Lumos P. Nox.







Ginny hated silver. It was the colour of disappointment; of dashed hopes and parting. It was the colour of tears. Well, it wasn’t really the colour of tears, the tears were clear and her face went an unattractive red but it was the blank colour that reflected them back at her, her ugly, frustrated sobs.

She never used to hate silver. After all, it was just a colour. For a while, it was the only colour jewellery she’d wear; it was small and delicate and never looked tacky like gold. It was the jewellery of the young. She didn’t feel young any more.

She was frequently surprised at how weak she felt. It was silly, she had held off Voldemort’s influence for a year when she was only 11. She had fought Death Eaters more than once. She had been strong enough to let Harry go. She hadn’t realised then that it would be so hard, living without them. She didn’t want to be out there finding horcruxes, she knew she was much more useful back at Hogwarts, keeping an eye on things. How many people could go on a stealth mission anyway? She’d never realised how much she relied on them for her strength, though. No Hermione to giggle with and to compare notes with. No Ron to tease and hug when she felt down. No Harry. Her heart tripped whenever she thought his name, let alone when people said it aloud. She hadn’t realised the amount of times every day that she had just seen them and smiled, told a joke or punched them lightly, just to know they were there and still loved her, just seeing them had comforted her. She hadn’t known how often people would ask her what they were doing, assuming she was as close to them as she had always been.

Every time she closed her eyes, she was back at Fleur and Bill’s wedding, when she last saw them in person. She was sick of the memory. It had played itself back at her ad nauseam, she knew it didn’t help, her brain was almost fevered with its recollection and she couldn’t escape it. Like the nightmare that is stalking you, waiting for you to sink back into sleep. She was back in the afternoon where- despite their break-up- she and Harry had danced and laughed together. Then later that evening when she came in to see them all packed up, ready to leave. With the silver. It was in pieces on the table, a backing and little shards of emotional ice, not that she knew that then. Hermione looked up as Ginny entered and quickly placed it all back together. Ginny could see then that it was a broken mirror. With some aching, stupid hope that that would make them stay with her she nervously had pointed out that it was broken and meant seven year’s bad luck. Harry smiled weakly - he must have read her mind - and waved his wand over the mirror, causing it to bind back together. The memory blurred here, she could never remember how Harry sounded when he wasn’t in front of her; and the more she tried to hold onto it the more it slipped away. She just remembered them walking out the door and the feeling that her heart had exploded in her body and its feelings were splattered everywhere; she couldn’t contain them any more, everywhere was this savage dull ache of them not being with her.

She took the mirror back and carried it with her constantly. And that’s where the hate had started. It was fine to start with; she hadn’t fully realised how it worked. The one day, about a week after she had it in her possession, she had heard a voice whispering up from her pocket.
‘Ginny! GINNY!’- if that was even possible to say in a whisper- and she had ducked into a deserted corridor and pulled the mirror out. She could see Harry’s face and just the edge of Ron’s and as they grinned at her she heard Hermione’s frustrated pleas from the background, wanting to get a look in. The conversation had been brief and to the point and for the briefest of minutes, Ginny was happy. It wasn’t even as good as holding his hand but at least she knew for that minute what his voice sounded like, and that he knew she was still there. Then their faces faded, replaced by the silver. Dignified and solid. Not bending, not letting her keep them. They had faded and as Ginny stood there her sudden happiness faded too.

Still it hadn’t been that bad at first, but as weeks went on it started to drive her mad. She started to stare at the mirror for minutes on end, hoping against hope that they would use it that day. Hoping that if she stared at it for longer, they would know her desires and call her. But only the silver stared back, confirming her thoughts that she was alone, that she couldn’t just call and tell Hermione about Colin Creevy’s new girlfriend; or tell Harry about the funniest thing that happened with Flitwick and his stool; or just tell Ron that he was an idiot. It reminded her constantly that they weren’t with her, they couldn’t share the tales of everyday life that draw people closer together. They were drifting away and the silver face taunted her for it. She wanted to hurt it- to smash it- so it could feel her pain but what’s the point? It wouldn’t feel it and then she’d never see Harry. She started to imagine that someone was whispering her name and she, an innumerable amount of times, had ducked out of sight to see the silver taunting her again. She could have called them, but what would she say? Something inane and useless? No, best used for serious things- wasn’t her love for them serious? - Ginny hated silver.
Reviews 14
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