Ginny woke up the next morning feeling as if the Hogwarts Express had hit her twice. Her nose was running, her body ached, and she kept throwing up.
Without even thinking, Ginny reached for where she normally kept her stash of cocaine only to find it empty. She groaned as she remembered flushing it down the toilet the previous night after the Narcotics Anonymous meeting.
“What the fuck?” she complained.
She recalled what Draco had told her the day before about physical dependency. Was that what this was? Or did she simply need a Pepper-Up Potion?
Ginny dug through her potions bag, found the Pepper-Up Potion, and downed it in five gulps. Smoke streamed out of her ears, and Ginny stood there waiting for relief that never came.
“Are you fucking serious?!” she screamed as she threw the empty potion bottle against the wall and listened to it shatter.
Ginny felt the pressure of a migraine building in her head, and she was beyond pissed.
“Where is my fucking cell?” she whined to the empty room.
She wanted to collapse back into bed, do a line of coke, and then go to see George. They always ate together on Wednesdays. It was something they had started after Fred passed away. As much as Ginny loved Ron-and Merlin knew it was a lot-she had always been closer to the twins.
Missing lunch with George wasn’t an option. Not with as depressed as he had been as of late. Ginny licked her lips and looked at the cookie jar where she kept her emergency stash. It had only enough for two lines in it, but Ginny just needed to get through the lunch. She didn’t even think as she grabbed the cookie jar.
Inside was a small baggie with cocaine in it and a clean straw. She set the bag on the counter, opened it, and set up the two lines. She snorted them up, enjoying the sweet burn, and after a few minutes she felt immensely better.
“I’ll quit using tomorrow,” she promised the air. “I just have to meet George today.”
Guilt churned in her stomach, but she knew what she was doing. She had this. She was going to quit. Tomorrow.
She hopped in the shower, forgetting all about Draco and her cell phone with his number in it in case she had felt exactly this way.
Ginny used make-up to cover up the bags under her eyes. She put Sleak Easy in her hair, making the curls perfect. She primped in front of the mirror for a moment before Apparating to the entrance of Diagon Alley and entering.
Diagon Alley was filled with people; people who turned and stared as she walked by, and a few were brave enough to ask for her autograph. Ginny reveled in the support of her fans. She was on top of the world. So why did Gwenog Jones think she was some kind of addict?
Ginny made it to the newly opened Diagon Alley branch of the Three Broomsticks, and she practically skipped inside she was so joyous.
Her almost-skipping stopped the moment she saw George’s face with such a grim look on it. She walked slowly to the table, and seated herself in front of George. Ginny noted the firewhisky in his glass.
He pushed a Butterbeer across the table to her. Ginny sipped at it and waited for George to start talking, but it became quickly apparent that he didn’t wish to be the one to begin the conversation.
“George?” she asked softly, noting the slightly glassy look of his eyes. “How long have you been waiting for me?”
George shrugged but offered no explanation. So he wanted to do this the hard way, eh? Ginny was more than capable of dealing with George when he was like this.
“Are you going to talk to me?” she asked as she tapped his glass of whisky in order to focus his attention onto her and the table.
George sighed and ran a hand over the beard that was starting to grow on his face.
“How did we get here?” he asked, his voice cracking and his eyes shining with unshed tears.
“What do you mean, George?” Ginny asked tenderly.
George sat there for a moment, contemplating his glass before he answered her.
“I am screwing my dead twin brother’s girl friend in order to feel closer to him. Hell, I don’t even like Angelina, and I am pretty sure she resents me for being the twin to live.”
Ginny’s first thought was that she needed cocaine to figure out how to respond to George’s confession, but cocaine wasn’t available. so Ginny had to try and refocus.
“George, he is gone, and I know I don’t understand the twin connection, but you won’t see him until the day you die,” Ginny murmured.
George nodded, took a deep breath, looked Ginny dead in the eye, and said, “Then maybe I should just kill myself.”
Ginny’s blood was running cold. George was hurting, and no one alive could alleviate his suffering. And Ginny was so scared that this would be their last conversation. That she would somehow fail George and lose her brother to Death because George was very much like the second brother with the Resurrection Stone in the tales of Beedle the Bard.
“George, you wouldn’t be saying this if you hadn’t been over drinking again,” Ginny reprimanded.
George shrugged and said, “So maybe I’m an alcoholic, but at this point what does it matter?”
“It matters because I love you! You are my big brother, and right now I need you!” Ginny shouted, not even realizing she had half the bar’s attention.
“What is so wrong with your picture perfect life?” George asked.
Ginny contemplated telling George everything. How she had been suspended from the team for using drugs. How Harry had once again chosen work over them, and they were in fact off again which made family dinners really fucking awkward. How she couldn’t sleep without reliving Tom raping her in the Chamber. How she saw the faces of their dead loved ones every time she closed her eyes, so she tried to keep her eyes open and alert as much as possible. Ginny contemplated being brutally honest for just one moment.
But instead of saying that, Ginny said, “I know my life looks perfect, but right now the very foundation of it is crumbling. I need you to be okay; otherwise I won’t be okay.”
George gave her a long, measured look and nodded.
“Fine, but eventually you will have to tell me what is wrong,” George told her as he reached across the table for her Butterbeer like he used to do when they were in school, but Ginny slapped his hand away.
“Get your own, dork. And maybe one day I’ll tell you, but for now let’s do lunch.”
Ginny took the rest of George’s whisky and tossed its contents in a nearby potted plant. George didn’t bother to comment on that.
“So,” Ginny began after they had ordered, “How is business?”
George nodded. “Business is amazing, actually. The numbers are in, and Weasley Wizard Wheezes is outselling Zonko’s by quite a large margin.”
Ginny nodded her head, thoroughly impressed. Despite his depression, George was still managing his business very well. It was no longer just a joke shop; George sold so many dark detectors these days that he couldn’t keep them in stock, Everyone was on edge expecting the remaining free Death Eaters to make themselves be known. It wasn’t uncommon for the Dark Mark to be seen in the sky randomly, a reminder that Tom’s people were still hoping for their Master’s return.
“How is Quidditch?” George asked.
Ginny forced a smile. “It is good. I haven’t been practicing as much. I’m taking a sort of vacation from it.”
“Why?” George asked with a furrowed brow.
Ginny shrugged and said, “Gwenog and I are butting heads. Everything has to be done her way. I just need a break so I can come back fresh.”
“Yeah,” George said while chewing his food, his bad manners showing, something their mother would have berated him for, “I’ve heard she is really difficult to work with. Just remember, she IS the captain of the team.”
Ginny faked a smile as she said, “I know, George,” and the guilt ate her alive inside.
Without even thinking, Ginny reached for where she normally kept her stash of cocaine only to find it empty. She groaned as she remembered flushing it down the toilet the previous night after the Narcotics Anonymous meeting.
“What the fuck?” she complained.
She recalled what Draco had told her the day before about physical dependency. Was that what this was? Or did she simply need a Pepper-Up Potion?
Ginny dug through her potions bag, found the Pepper-Up Potion, and downed it in five gulps. Smoke streamed out of her ears, and Ginny stood there waiting for relief that never came.
“Are you fucking serious?!” she screamed as she threw the empty potion bottle against the wall and listened to it shatter.
Ginny felt the pressure of a migraine building in her head, and she was beyond pissed.
“Where is my fucking cell?” she whined to the empty room.
She wanted to collapse back into bed, do a line of coke, and then go to see George. They always ate together on Wednesdays. It was something they had started after Fred passed away. As much as Ginny loved Ron-and Merlin knew it was a lot-she had always been closer to the twins.
Missing lunch with George wasn’t an option. Not with as depressed as he had been as of late. Ginny licked her lips and looked at the cookie jar where she kept her emergency stash. It had only enough for two lines in it, but Ginny just needed to get through the lunch. She didn’t even think as she grabbed the cookie jar.
Inside was a small baggie with cocaine in it and a clean straw. She set the bag on the counter, opened it, and set up the two lines. She snorted them up, enjoying the sweet burn, and after a few minutes she felt immensely better.
“I’ll quit using tomorrow,” she promised the air. “I just have to meet George today.”
Guilt churned in her stomach, but she knew what she was doing. She had this. She was going to quit. Tomorrow.
She hopped in the shower, forgetting all about Draco and her cell phone with his number in it in case she had felt exactly this way.
Ginny used make-up to cover up the bags under her eyes. She put Sleak Easy in her hair, making the curls perfect. She primped in front of the mirror for a moment before Apparating to the entrance of Diagon Alley and entering.
Diagon Alley was filled with people; people who turned and stared as she walked by, and a few were brave enough to ask for her autograph. Ginny reveled in the support of her fans. She was on top of the world. So why did Gwenog Jones think she was some kind of addict?
Ginny made it to the newly opened Diagon Alley branch of the Three Broomsticks, and she practically skipped inside she was so joyous.
Her almost-skipping stopped the moment she saw George’s face with such a grim look on it. She walked slowly to the table, and seated herself in front of George. Ginny noted the firewhisky in his glass.
He pushed a Butterbeer across the table to her. Ginny sipped at it and waited for George to start talking, but it became quickly apparent that he didn’t wish to be the one to begin the conversation.
“George?” she asked softly, noting the slightly glassy look of his eyes. “How long have you been waiting for me?”
George shrugged but offered no explanation. So he wanted to do this the hard way, eh? Ginny was more than capable of dealing with George when he was like this.
“Are you going to talk to me?” she asked as she tapped his glass of whisky in order to focus his attention onto her and the table.
George sighed and ran a hand over the beard that was starting to grow on his face.
“How did we get here?” he asked, his voice cracking and his eyes shining with unshed tears.
“What do you mean, George?” Ginny asked tenderly.
George sat there for a moment, contemplating his glass before he answered her.
“I am screwing my dead twin brother’s girl friend in order to feel closer to him. Hell, I don’t even like Angelina, and I am pretty sure she resents me for being the twin to live.”
Ginny’s first thought was that she needed cocaine to figure out how to respond to George’s confession, but cocaine wasn’t available. so Ginny had to try and refocus.
“George, he is gone, and I know I don’t understand the twin connection, but you won’t see him until the day you die,” Ginny murmured.
George nodded, took a deep breath, looked Ginny dead in the eye, and said, “Then maybe I should just kill myself.”
Ginny’s blood was running cold. George was hurting, and no one alive could alleviate his suffering. And Ginny was so scared that this would be their last conversation. That she would somehow fail George and lose her brother to Death because George was very much like the second brother with the Resurrection Stone in the tales of Beedle the Bard.
“George, you wouldn’t be saying this if you hadn’t been over drinking again,” Ginny reprimanded.
George shrugged and said, “So maybe I’m an alcoholic, but at this point what does it matter?”
“It matters because I love you! You are my big brother, and right now I need you!” Ginny shouted, not even realizing she had half the bar’s attention.
“What is so wrong with your picture perfect life?” George asked.
Ginny contemplated telling George everything. How she had been suspended from the team for using drugs. How Harry had once again chosen work over them, and they were in fact off again which made family dinners really fucking awkward. How she couldn’t sleep without reliving Tom raping her in the Chamber. How she saw the faces of their dead loved ones every time she closed her eyes, so she tried to keep her eyes open and alert as much as possible. Ginny contemplated being brutally honest for just one moment.
But instead of saying that, Ginny said, “I know my life looks perfect, but right now the very foundation of it is crumbling. I need you to be okay; otherwise I won’t be okay.”
George gave her a long, measured look and nodded.
“Fine, but eventually you will have to tell me what is wrong,” George told her as he reached across the table for her Butterbeer like he used to do when they were in school, but Ginny slapped his hand away.
“Get your own, dork. And maybe one day I’ll tell you, but for now let’s do lunch.”
Ginny took the rest of George’s whisky and tossed its contents in a nearby potted plant. George didn’t bother to comment on that.
“So,” Ginny began after they had ordered, “How is business?”
George nodded. “Business is amazing, actually. The numbers are in, and Weasley Wizard Wheezes is outselling Zonko’s by quite a large margin.”
Ginny nodded her head, thoroughly impressed. Despite his depression, George was still managing his business very well. It was no longer just a joke shop; George sold so many dark detectors these days that he couldn’t keep them in stock, Everyone was on edge expecting the remaining free Death Eaters to make themselves be known. It wasn’t uncommon for the Dark Mark to be seen in the sky randomly, a reminder that Tom’s people were still hoping for their Master’s return.
“How is Quidditch?” George asked.
Ginny forced a smile. “It is good. I haven’t been practicing as much. I’m taking a sort of vacation from it.”
“Why?” George asked with a furrowed brow.
Ginny shrugged and said, “Gwenog and I are butting heads. Everything has to be done her way. I just need a break so I can come back fresh.”
“Yeah,” George said while chewing his food, his bad manners showing, something their mother would have berated him for, “I’ve heard she is really difficult to work with. Just remember, she IS the captain of the team.”
Ginny faked a smile as she said, “I know, George,” and the guilt ate her alive inside.
Leave a Review