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The Ginny Project.11 — Grim Horizon

The Ginny Project: Entry 11
Grim Horizon

~ In which there is poison and ice cream, The Letter is Discussed, a difficulty to get along, ‘Good job, Remus’, left to Death ~




Ginny crumpled the letter in her fist, looking at the wall before her. Of course the Ministry had no clue who had killed Molly, for she was intelligenterer than them. Arthur was such a fuckwit – and on top of that, a fuckwit with a small office. So small, in fact, you could say that it was about the size of an oven. Therefore, he would soon be stuffed into one of these. Just because.

Only, the oven’d be heated and whatnot.

Ginny was currently sitting on her bed, in the new flat she had gotten herself by killing its previous occupant. The wall she was still looking at was still mint green. The sunlight coming in the window at her right was still dulled by thick clouds. She was still wearing the same clothes. In fact, nothing had changed for the past few hours; she still did, indeed, feel very sick.

‘I am feeling sick,’ she stated slowly, which was a change in her environment, because now the silence was in fact a lack thereof;
‘Sick like a stomach,
‘That has been pricked,
‘And—’

But she wasn’t able to find anything else to rhyme with ‘-ick’. And her throat hurt. She was not able to sing anymore. In normal times, she told herself, she would have inserted things such as ‘dick’ and ‘sex it’, but she did not care about that anymore.

Ginny stood up and walked toward her window slowly, slightly bent over the pain pervading her stomach. She put a hand on the glass. It was cold on her fingers; in the grey sky outside, some birds were flying south. But she did not need to look to make sure they followed her orders, because they had none; they were free, free to fly, free to not deliver letters, free to not get their feathers plucked.

Maybe… Maybe it was not only purposefully making others feel bad that she did that was not right. Maybe she… Maybe she should simply get over Harry, get over Cho. She would go to Molly’s funeral tonight, and she would be sad because she had lost her mother.

And she was sad right now, too. Not because she had lost Molly, precisely, but more… more because she knew she was alone, had no one to talk to, and she felt very dirty about all that she had done.

And, from across the street, in the flat directly at her level, she saw someone looking at her. White, combed hair, curling dramatically at the sides. Seventeenth-century-like clothing. He was the ice cream man. He smiled; Ginny nodded and went to her kitchen, waiting for the man to come. He would take her away and all her troubles would be over.

The bottle of poison was on her table, standing alone. She stared at it, and then rushed toward it and seized it between two of her fingers, her heart beating hard. She had just had a new idea, and it was good; it would ensure that all her troubles would be over, and soon.

As a tear ran down her cheek, she took a short, suffocated breath and walked willfully into the welcoming arms of Death.

*
When Sirius came into his room, he saw Remus lying on the bed, curled up in a small ball.

‘Hey, Moony,’ he said.

Remus started, turned his gaze toward Sirius, and straightened up all at once. Then he smiled a troubled smile that, Sirius told himself, emphasised the approaching full moon. ‘Hi,’ Remus mumbled.

Sirius sat beside him and ran his fingers through his lover’s greying hair. ‘What’s up?’ he asked.

Remus, who was most noticeably hiding his face, handed him the letter. Sirius’s face melted.

‘Oh, Moony,’ he said. ‘Shit. I— No. This is complete bollocks. I didn’t agree to… to anything he said I agreed to. It… It’s just that I really did want to come out of Azkaban, and I was losing it, and he told me that if I killed you, he’d let me go, and I agreed without listening, and some days ago he came to remind me of our agreement, and… Moony, of course I’m not planning to do any of this,’ he concluded.

Remus turned around. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Well, if you plan to kill me, now’s the perfect time, I think.’ He took a knife from under the blankets and handed it to Sirius. ‘Have fun,’ he said. ‘I’m rather defenceless.’

‘No, Moonyyyyyy,’ Sirius whined. ‘Don’t be a prat.’

‘I don’t think now is the best moment to insult me, Sirius.’

‘Do you want to have sex?’

‘Not really.’

‘Well… How can I make it better?’

‘By leaving, maybe?’

‘But I don’t want to, Remus. I love you too much,’ he whispered.

Remus threw him an annoyed look.

‘I do,’ Sirius persisted. ‘When I was dead, all I could think of was you.’

Sirius’s face suddenly read: Oops.

‘What?’ Remus asked.

‘What what?’ Sirius was suddenly looking rather uncomfortable.

‘Why do you look like you regret having said that?’

‘I dooooon’t,’ he whined.

‘Yes you do.’

‘No I don’t, my little love-bunny.’ He tickled Remus’s nose. Remus threw him another annoyed look.

‘Yes, you do. Sirius, is… is there something you wish to tell me?’

Sirius sighed, laid the knife on Remus’s lap, and sat back against the head of the bed to look in the same direction as Remus was.

‘Yes,’ he said, his voice suddenly annoyed, ‘there is. Well, no, there’s not, ‘cause I’m not wishing to tell you, but you are wishing me to tell you because you want to know if I have something to say, which I do, but that doesn’t quite mean I want to—’

‘Please cease the babbling,’ Remus said quietly.

‘Fine. Okay, so my point is, I had sex with Death to escape from Her.’ Then he turned his back to Remus and moaned, fearing the consequences of his words – and hiding from his sight.

And in the window he was facing, he saw the blur of something shiny being raised by an arm, and suddenly felt a burning pain in his ribs. He moaned – pain moan, not oh-shit moan – and after a moment of silence, his brain mutilated by agony, he heard Remus mumble, ‘Oh. Oh – oh – oh – oh – oh – oh – oh my God. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…’ His voice was rather squeaky. ‘Oh, oh, Padfoot, I am so sorry…’ The pain in Sirius’s ribs worsened as the knife was taken out of him; thick blood was spitting on the white blankets.

‘Damn-damn-damn-damn-damn-okay, I’ll get you to the hospital.’ Remus’s voice was quivering.

‘What the fuck was that about?’ managed Sirius, and he even managed to sound indignant, but the laugh that came out unexpectedly from his mouth kind of managed to ruin the whole effect.

‘I am so sorry; it’s just that I was supposed to kill you, but I didn’t want to, and it’s been bothering me, and you sleeping with Death – what the hell, by the way? – kinda angered me, and I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt—’

‘Just get me to the damn hospital!’

*
When Beckett and two of his men opened the door to Ginny’s stolen flat, they were surprised to see that one, she was still there, and two, she was simply sitting on her kitchen table – neither hiding nor hiding behind the door with a raised frying-pan. There was, though, an empty flask beside her – not that this would help her very much when she would attempt to attack him, of course.

‘Ah, Miss Weasley,’ Beckett said, smiling, slowly walking toward Ginny. ‘I believe you have an appointment with the court. I would be putting you in shackles, but that is obviously of no help, so instead I decided to get my men to put an anti-Disapparating Charm upon the whole building.’

Beckett was now very close to Ginny; suddenly, he frowned and quickly picked up the flask, read its label, sniffed it, and turned back to his men to say, ‘Let’s leave. She poisoned herself. If she dies, we might be blamed.’

As he turned around, however, Ginny raised her wand and mumbled, ‘Avada Kedavra.’ A little spark hit Beckett’s backside, but nothing really happened apart from that. Beckett smiled over his shoulder, scratching said buttocks.

‘Good day, Miss Weasley.’

He will just leave me here to die? thought Ginny as the door closed behind the men. What an arsehole. Maybe I shouldn’t kill myself, after all. I still haven’t killed him, and therefore, I haven’t yet succeeded. Okay, I’ll send Mundungus an owl asking for the remedy. This is stupid; I don’t know why I did all this.

A mere ten minutes later, she swallowed said remedy. Then she left the building from a back door and Disapparated to the Burrow, where she was planning to attend her mother’s funeral. Things, it seemed, might soon start getting better. There was, after all, nothing but one more necessary murder to commit.

Oh, right. And Sirius. That summed up to two. But if you rounded that out to the closest factor of ten, it was zero. And that really wasn’t much work.





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