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harry potter - ginny weasley

078.

[ video ]

... is this—oh, alright, it is.

[The voice may be familiar to many, and the face in essence too, but as Ginny Weasley leans back from the camera to address the network, it might be clear to those who know her that she's different today. For one, she's wearing her Gryffindor uniform, all robes and tie and cardigan. For another, she's younger and thinner—almost drawn, and though her eyes are as quick and bright as ever, they carry a wariness and weariness that haven't been present in years. Her hair is still long, though shorter than she's been wearing it in the City, and there's no mistaking the still-healing split lip or faded bruising along her cheekbone and eye.

None of this seems to bother the witch at the moment, though. There are more important matters to attend to.]

Hullo. I seem to have taken a wrong turn at school—not unusual, really, the stairs like to play tricks—but I was on my way to a classroom and ended up in this, er, charming place. And while I'm terribly fond of London, I know this isn't it; and honestly, I'm running late as it is.

[There's a hardness in her jaw and in her tone that the City softened long ago, but she isn't demanding answers like she had the moment she 'arrived.' She has her bearings, now. To an extent. She pauses, then smiles, shaking off the very real irritation for a more charming façade; come, now, help the innocent school girl find her way home.]

Hardly back a month from holidays and I've already got loads of things to do! I'm not usually late, you know. I don't mind missing a few minutes of Professor Carrows' class, for example— [She chuckles, shrugging.] —but I'm sort of in charge of this meeting and they're all fairly useless without me. I've read a guide, of course, but I don't exactly trust everything I read nowadays.

Thank you for your time.

[OOC; ginny's been hit with Feels Like the First Time! she's back to being 16 years old and for her, it's february of 1998, so she's still at hogwarts and helping neville lead the DA and causing general havoc with the student's rebellion.

she won't remember any CR she's made in the city for the duration of the curse because to her, this is her first time arriving here. it will all come back to her tomorrow, of course. enjoy!]

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[She hates this, she hates having to be on the edge of a duel with everyone she meets, but Percy is the only familiar face she recognises here and despite all he's done to the family, she finds herself hoping it's him. Please let it be her brother, not another Death Eater, not another impostor, not another bloody nightmare.

But the tune, the words, jolt her from her defensive stance into something softer, an inward relaxation as relief floods her core—and yes, it's been years, but that answer can't be easily forgotten, nor would a Death Eater think to go that deep in an interrogation.]

Percy.

[It's soft, uncertain and certain all at once. And then she breaks into a smile, wry and fond (how do you proceed with an estranged brother?) and lowers her wand to her side.]

Your singing's still terrible.

Edited 2012-05-27 23:27 (UTC)

I'm a bureaucrat, not a pop star, and I imagine everyone is grateful for that.

[And then he moves forward, brows knitting, so overwhelmed with concern and worry for her. She's hurt, how did this happen, why did it happen, who did it - and why is he so worthless as an older brother that he let it happen?]

What happened to you?

[She waves off his concern with a hand and a shrug because honestly, this was a few days ago, it's her fault for not bracing her fall the right way, and there are others in the DA worse off.]

Detention. It's fine. [She pauses.] Of course, I reckon you know all about it, being in the Ministry and all.

[Somehow, she manages not to sound nearly as resentful as she feels (just a little, just in the corner of her heart) because Percy so far is the only one she knows here. That's better than nothing. She hesitates, uncertain, then rests her hand on his shoulder—and Merlin, she feels so silly, so young around him when she's so used to being one of the oldest, the one the firsties look up to, along with Neville.]

So, this... City place. People say you can't leave. They're not bloody serious, are they?

Deten -

[She hasn't been in detention for ages. It sounds like she's talking about -

- his heart clenches.

The war.

She sounds like she's coming fresh from the war, when she was facing things like that on a regular basis. This must be some sort of trick of the City's, making her forget everything.

He sighs, though he makes no move to shake off her hand.]

No, I'm afraid they're quite right. How are you feeling? Are you hungry or thirsty?

[Well, really, she expects him to be appalled by it—he's only her brother, after all, and she can't imagine what Mum must be going through when they send letters about her daughter's misbehaviours. So her brothers would be the same. She pats him gently on the shoulder at the aborted word, the movement a bit rusty and awkward but at least she's not pulling away.]

I know, I know. [She grins.] How dare I spoil all your good work as prefect and Head Boy by landing in detention. I reckon I'm more like the twins, after all.

[And then she shakes her head at the questions, finally lowering her hand so she can cross her arms in robes that, honestly, must be sweltering in the summer after coming from a Scottish winter.]

Don't worry. Merlin, Perce, just when I was starting to miss you, you turn into Mum.

[That gets the slightest of winces - but, as he reminds himself firmly, he's being selfish; this isn't about him right now, it's about Ginny and reacclimatizing her until whatever the City's done to her undoes itself. Because if there's one thing he's learned here, it's that nothing is permanent.]

Let's go back to the flat, then. I can explain things more easily there.

[Her brows pop up in surprise, then knit curiously—and really, if she didn't look or sound three years younger before, she certainly does now, with the way her head tips to the side and she asks quickly: ]

You've got a flat? Just how long've you been here, then?

A few months. It's ... complicated, I'm afraid.

[God, she looks so young now. He's gotten used to her being closer to his age (it's a two-year age difference, not five; so strange how he's adjusted), so seeing her as he remembers her from home leaves him a bit shaken.]

We'll Apparate.

[And he holds out his arm, waiting for her to put hers on top of it.]

[In a way, it certainly drives home just how painfully young they all were at the peak of the war and how little difference that made. Still, the war is behind her now, though her nerves and reflexes are still on high-alert, as they have been for months, and it's hard for her to wind down from it—especially in a place new and unfamiliar.

Ginny hesitates for just a beat before reaching out to wind her arm through his because she knows this is Percy, not some Death Eater. She knows.]

Alright. On your count.

One, two, three.

[And on three, they vanish away with a crack, reappearing just outside the apartment building in the main square. He unlocks the front door, then gestures for her to follow him up to the flat.]

[Despite her outwardly relaxed appearance, Ginny is coiled tight and ready to spring—it's a hard habit to break after stepping quite literally from one world and into the next (or so she thinks). She's had a few hours to adjust to the City, but she spent those hours carefully secluded, watchful, taking stock of the situation (convinced it was a dream?). And it hasn't stopped now. She follows him up to the apartment in relative silence, not cold but quiet. It isn't until she steps into the flat itself that she reconnects with the outside world, as it were, looking up and around, and then she comments,]

Love what you've done with the place, Percy. [Small talk and Merlin does it sound a little too forced.] Finally get yourself a girlfriend to do the decorating?

[Because it's a woman's touch, certainly, and definitely to her tastes. Comfortable, homey, lived-in. Not too girly, not too spartan.]

[He grimaces a little at her question. Best to head that question off at the pass right away - oh, and here comes Helena, nuzzling at Ginny's feet and wending around her ankles, purring like a tiny furry motor.]

Actually, you did the decorating. I live here with you.

[She's actually in the process of kneeling to greet the cat, petting her fondly but with no familiarity; even goes as far as to murmur, "What's your name, love?" And then Ginny hears her brother's words and though something like cold suspicion or dread begins to settle in her stomach, she brushes it all off with a scoff and looks up at him.]

Nice. Glad to see your sense of humour's improved a least a little.

Edited 2012-06-01 01:49 (UTC)

I'm not joking.

[And that feeling is spreading. She stands slowly and there's no mistaking the way her hand wanders to her wand; habit, perhaps, security as well, but this is not what she wants to hear. She does not want to hear about things other people remember except her and this feels like that's exactly where they're headed.]

Yeah, you are. [She isn't smiling anymore but her voice is still light.] Though I have to say, it's actually a terrible joke. You can do so much better. Fred and George should teach you a few things.

[He tries not to wince at the mention of the twins. It's getting better, but it's still difficult.]

I'm not joking. When have you ever known me to joke?

[He's right. She hasn't heard him joke in years. Then again, she hasn't heard him in years, period. Ginny's jaw tightens a little.]

I don't understand.

I don't entirely understand either, but. I'll do my best to explain. Sometimes the City does things to people - just affects them somehow; changes their appearance or makes them think things are different than they are. I think that's what happened to you.

[Ginny pales a little then takes a half-step back before she realises what she's doing, hand curled around her wand in the pocket of her robes, chest a little tight. The City does things. The City makes them think things.

Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain.

Quietly, quickly,]

Percy, you of all people should know. You can't just—you can't bloody say that to me, not to me, after everything I've—

[She cuts herself off.]

I'm not different. I'm your sister.

I know, Ginny. I know you're not different.

[Except you are ... but he's not sure what's 'normal' for him anymore. Is the sixteen-year-old Ginny he recognizes from home the normal one, or is the nineteen-year-old Ginny he's shared countless midnight cups of tea with the normal one?]

But it's true.

You're not making sense.

[Maybe she isn't in a different world. Maybe the Carrows grabbed her on the way to the Room of Requirement and she's actually lying on the floor of the dungeon between rounds of the Cruciatus. Maybe she's dreaming, has been dreaming all these hours. Why else would Percy be here, talking to her, being kind to her, saying they live together? Isn't that something that's just a dream, now, their family back together? Where's the rest of them? Where's Harry?

Ginny shakes her head, starts to laugh, but this is nowhere near funny.]

This is a dream. I bloody well knew it. I knew it the second I got here. [Sharp, dry, cold.] Not that I mind, I suppose this is better than being Cruciated.

It's not a dream!

[How do people prove that something isn't a dream? They - they pinch themselves! That's what he does after a particularly bad nightmare, pinches himself hard on the arm, hard enough to remind himself that the shadows are just shadows and the crumbling walls aren't real.]

Pinch yourself.

I'm not going to pinch myself, I'm not a child—stop treating me like one!

[Even though she's certainly acting like one, more than she does nowadays because she forgets. The war makes her forget that she's only sixteen, is allowed to act like she's sixteen, but she guards herself so tightly that she can't do this. Not where the others can see.

So this is a dream.]

Then I will!

[He'll regret this later, probably, but his siblings have always brought out what he considers to be the worst - and what they probably consider to be the best in him.

And he reaches out and pinches her. It's not too hard, not as hard as he pinches himself, but she'll feel it.]

Ow!

[Ginny yanks her arm back with a scowl, wand whipping up as she does so, and even though she's angry and annoyed and confused, she won't hex him. Still, the threat is there as she snaps out,]

What the hell are you doing? Are you mad!

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