Therapy
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
4,245
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
4,245
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Ginny
This is a Tom Riddle (15)/Ginny Weasley (11) fic. It will most likely have elements of Ginny Weasley (16)/Draco Malfoy (17) and/or Ginny Weasley (16)/Dean Thomas (17). If you do not like any of these, please do not read this and then flame me. THERE IS NO SEX IN THIS CHAPTER.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or anything in it. All of this and more belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Ginny sat on Hermione’s bed wondering what she was going to do. The older girl was letting Ginny and her on-again-off-again boyfriend of two years use her private bedroom for the night. It was St. Valentine’s Day and Dean Thomas had crafted a wonderful celebration for his girlfriend. Everything had been meticulously planned; even down to where he was going to place his hands on her. (How the two had convinced the Head Girl to spend the night in Gryffindor tower and give them her bedroom was something no one knew, but that didn’t matter to the gossip mongers. They were more interested in embellishing what everyone knew.) Dean knew what everyone else in the castle knew; Ginny Weasley was a virgin. That’s why he spent such a long time reading up on positions and how to be gentle. Ginny was planning on giving Dean something very special; something she had never given anyone else. At least, that’s what everyone thought.
Ginny knew better, though. She had never told anyone; not even her best friend in the whole world. She hadn’t been a virgin for a very long time. The redhead sat on Hermione’s bed wringing her hands. She had to tell someone before she exploded; she needed to tell Dean, but that conversation wasn’t very likely. He would go off the handle as would any of her other friends. Who could Ginny tell?
A sudden knock broke Ginny out of her thoughts as the door swung open.
“Granger! I need you to look this...” Malfoy yelled as he entered in stopping short when he saw who sat on the bed. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?” He stopped when he realized the younger girl was crying. Malfoy sat on the bed (far enough away from her to bolt if she tried to wipe her nose on him) and asked, “Girl, why are you crying?”
It sounded so much like the line from Ginny’s favorite book, Peter Pan, that she contemplated telling him. Malfoy wouldn’t care that Ginny wasn’t a virgin and she could probably blackmail him into not telling. She remembered reading somewhere that it was easier to tell personal matters to strangers.
“If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
“How good are you at Transfiguration?” Malfoy asked. Ginny looked at him in shock as the tears still streamed down her face. “Granger’s not here and I need someone to go over my stuff. I’ve never been very good at it. If you read over this and promise not to tell anyone, I’ll listen and keep it a secret.”
“You’re lucky I’m the top of my class then,” Ginny said softly. “I’ve never told this to anyone. Not to Hermione; not to Luna; not even to my best friend Colin. And you can’t tell anyone either...especially Dean. See it kinda has to do with him.”
“Oh,” Malfoy interrupted, “You finally realised you weren’t in love with him. I’m surprised none of your friends didn’t realise it. I figured it out years ago.”
“Really? How?” Ginny asked slightly amused.
“You look so sad when you’re with him. Yes, you smile and laugh, but the smile never reaches your eyes. I’ve never seen him reach to hold your hand. He sees you as a snogging partner; not as a one-true-love. Well, now that I’ve figured out your problem...”
“That’s not what I was going to tell you,” Ginny interrupted. “How much do you know about the Chamber of Secrets?”
“Just what I found out through students. That you were kidnaped by the Heir of Slytherin who used a basilisk to attack the mudbloods,” Malfoy said matter-of-factly.
“Yes...and no,” Ginny said softly. “I found a diary. I was very lonely; didn’t really have any friends so I began writing in it. Imagine my surprise when it wrote back. A fifteen-year-old wizard had put his consciousness in the book somehow. Slowly, I began to do things for the boy in the book until one day he drew me into it. Not the way he drew Harry in. When he drew Harry in, Harry couldn’t interact with anything and just watched his memories as if they were a movie. But with me, he did something different. I could touch and feel him and he could touch and feel me. It’s partially my fault. I was under the Imperious Curse when he actually...but I kept coming back by myself. And slowly he began to take me over. I began to murder roosters and paint messages on the wall with their blood. Then, he...he made me attack my friends. When I was brought into the Chamber, he was the one who walked down. I didn’t realize that he was stealing my ‘life essence’ every time we...interacted...in the book. If I had died in the Chamber, he would have been able to fully live in this world and would have killed Harry.” Ginny took a deep breath knowing this was the point of no return. “When I was eleven, I lost my virginity to the fifteen-year-old self of You-Know-Who.”
(A/N: Please review if you wish me to continue.)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or anything in it. All of this and more belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Ginny sat on Hermione’s bed wondering what she was going to do. The older girl was letting Ginny and her on-again-off-again boyfriend of two years use her private bedroom for the night. It was St. Valentine’s Day and Dean Thomas had crafted a wonderful celebration for his girlfriend. Everything had been meticulously planned; even down to where he was going to place his hands on her. (How the two had convinced the Head Girl to spend the night in Gryffindor tower and give them her bedroom was something no one knew, but that didn’t matter to the gossip mongers. They were more interested in embellishing what everyone knew.) Dean knew what everyone else in the castle knew; Ginny Weasley was a virgin. That’s why he spent such a long time reading up on positions and how to be gentle. Ginny was planning on giving Dean something very special; something she had never given anyone else. At least, that’s what everyone thought.
Ginny knew better, though. She had never told anyone; not even her best friend in the whole world. She hadn’t been a virgin for a very long time. The redhead sat on Hermione’s bed wringing her hands. She had to tell someone before she exploded; she needed to tell Dean, but that conversation wasn’t very likely. He would go off the handle as would any of her other friends. Who could Ginny tell?
A sudden knock broke Ginny out of her thoughts as the door swung open.
“Granger! I need you to look this...” Malfoy yelled as he entered in stopping short when he saw who sat on the bed. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?” He stopped when he realized the younger girl was crying. Malfoy sat on the bed (far enough away from her to bolt if she tried to wipe her nose on him) and asked, “Girl, why are you crying?”
It sounded so much like the line from Ginny’s favorite book, Peter Pan, that she contemplated telling him. Malfoy wouldn’t care that Ginny wasn’t a virgin and she could probably blackmail him into not telling. She remembered reading somewhere that it was easier to tell personal matters to strangers.
“If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
“How good are you at Transfiguration?” Malfoy asked. Ginny looked at him in shock as the tears still streamed down her face. “Granger’s not here and I need someone to go over my stuff. I’ve never been very good at it. If you read over this and promise not to tell anyone, I’ll listen and keep it a secret.”
“You’re lucky I’m the top of my class then,” Ginny said softly. “I’ve never told this to anyone. Not to Hermione; not to Luna; not even to my best friend Colin. And you can’t tell anyone either...especially Dean. See it kinda has to do with him.”
“Oh,” Malfoy interrupted, “You finally realised you weren’t in love with him. I’m surprised none of your friends didn’t realise it. I figured it out years ago.”
“Really? How?” Ginny asked slightly amused.
“You look so sad when you’re with him. Yes, you smile and laugh, but the smile never reaches your eyes. I’ve never seen him reach to hold your hand. He sees you as a snogging partner; not as a one-true-love. Well, now that I’ve figured out your problem...”
“That’s not what I was going to tell you,” Ginny interrupted. “How much do you know about the Chamber of Secrets?”
“Just what I found out through students. That you were kidnaped by the Heir of Slytherin who used a basilisk to attack the mudbloods,” Malfoy said matter-of-factly.
“Yes...and no,” Ginny said softly. “I found a diary. I was very lonely; didn’t really have any friends so I began writing in it. Imagine my surprise when it wrote back. A fifteen-year-old wizard had put his consciousness in the book somehow. Slowly, I began to do things for the boy in the book until one day he drew me into it. Not the way he drew Harry in. When he drew Harry in, Harry couldn’t interact with anything and just watched his memories as if they were a movie. But with me, he did something different. I could touch and feel him and he could touch and feel me. It’s partially my fault. I was under the Imperious Curse when he actually...but I kept coming back by myself. And slowly he began to take me over. I began to murder roosters and paint messages on the wall with their blood. Then, he...he made me attack my friends. When I was brought into the Chamber, he was the one who walked down. I didn’t realize that he was stealing my ‘life essence’ every time we...interacted...in the book. If I had died in the Chamber, he would have been able to fully live in this world and would have killed Harry.” Ginny took a deep breath knowing this was the point of no return. “When I was eleven, I lost my virginity to the fifteen-year-old self of You-Know-Who.”
(A/N: Please review if you wish me to continue.)