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Much to the chagrin of the resident D/G shippers population at large, I have no glaring, all-consuming, internal conflict. I am torn apart from the insides by no suppressed hate, or of the need to be free from whatever hell they call life.
Despite popular belief, I am happy.
People will argue, But you were possessed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Name! And yes, I was possessed by Voldemort. Oh come on people, stop cowering! The time at hiding behind chairs and tables at the mere mention of his name is past! But the point: Yes, I was possessed by Tom Riddle, and yes he hurt me, but I got over it. Simply put, I moved on.
After all, one can only dwell in self pity for so long. One can only drown in a pit of despair before lungs become starved for air, and you discover that any real pain you feel at your suffering, was created by yourself.
That’s what Voldemort is so good at doing. Striking fear into our hearts and making us feel pain. Oh, not through anything he does to us. He gives us physical pain, but not real pain. Not the kind of pain that destroys people, families, societies. The mental pain is what destroys us. It comes from our heart, spreading through our body, warps our mind like a muggle drug.
He lays the seeds, and leaves them alone. Then they grow, from small seeds of discord, pain, fear, hate, into large trees that take the form of war, death, insanity.
Once you realize this, as you inevitably do after spending close to a year with him in your body, he no longer has any power over you. Because by simply knowing the weapons, you gain the power to fight them.
And still other people will argue, asking me why I’m not heartbroken. Or bitter, at least. Harry Potter rejected me, multiple times. Shouldn’t I be afraid of love? Cowering from the general male population all together? Well my answer is this: How desperate do you think I am?
For Merlin’s sake, yes, I had a crush, albeit a HUGE one, on Harry Potter. But when feelings aren’t reciprocated, and you get to really know the person, they tend to die away. As mine did.
And much to the horror and despair of Harry/Ginny shippers everywhere, we are not soulmates. He will not realize suddenly one day that he loves me, has loved me all along. He will not run into my open arms, and we will not share the kiss of all time and ride off into the sunset on our noble steed.
WRONG! That, as I like to call it, is a fairytale. Often found in people who have a diluded sense of reality.
The last reason I generally encounter as to why I should not be perfectly fine, is the fact of my family’s financial conditions. We’re poor, so what? We love each other, and it more than makes up for it. It’s hard sometimes, wearing second hand clothes, when what you really want is that pretty skirt in the window of the teen’s clothing botique across the street. But you learn to deal, or you find a way to remedy the situation.
And to soothe over the last of the reason why I should not be happy. It’s often believed that I’m bitter, angry, resentful, because, being the last of the family, I often get caught in the shadow of my sibling’s achievements. That my family ignores me, doesn’t really see me, that I am truly loved by no one.
This could be no further from the truth. Being the youngest and only girl, I get more attention than anybody in my family! My brothers always have time for me, and though they drive me up the wall quite often, even George and Fred seem to go easier on me.
And as for the ‘nobody really knows the real me’ thing, well dismiss that from your head. Nobody knows me better than my family! Except maybe Luna, my best friend since second year.
So I come to my conclusion: I have no internal conflict. No war waged inside of me. I’m Ginny Weasley. Not just Ginny Weasley. But I am Ginny Weasley. I’ve been told that I’m pretty, could be beautiful even with a little makeup. But I have no need, I’m comfortable with who I am, so why change that?
I am Ginny Weasley. I’m fiercely competitive, I have a mean right hook, guaranteed to sail through the hoops past the goalie every time, and if I’m mad, get out of my way because my temper is fiercer than my darling brother Ronald’s.
Why then, did Draco Malfoy choose me? Why did he come to me? I stick out of the crowd, but not in the way I would think he would be attracted to. I am Ginny Weasley. So why did he notice me, of all people?
I cannot comfort him the way somebody who has gone through the same things, can. In fact, I’m not even sure he’s gone through anything particularly stressing. Does he have any internal conflicts? It’s something I’m determined to find out.
So why did he pick me? Simple. I am Ginny Weasley.
Despite popular belief, I am happy.
People will argue, But you were possessed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Name! And yes, I was possessed by Voldemort. Oh come on people, stop cowering! The time at hiding behind chairs and tables at the mere mention of his name is past! But the point: Yes, I was possessed by Tom Riddle, and yes he hurt me, but I got over it. Simply put, I moved on.
After all, one can only dwell in self pity for so long. One can only drown in a pit of despair before lungs become starved for air, and you discover that any real pain you feel at your suffering, was created by yourself.
That’s what Voldemort is so good at doing. Striking fear into our hearts and making us feel pain. Oh, not through anything he does to us. He gives us physical pain, but not real pain. Not the kind of pain that destroys people, families, societies. The mental pain is what destroys us. It comes from our heart, spreading through our body, warps our mind like a muggle drug.
He lays the seeds, and leaves them alone. Then they grow, from small seeds of discord, pain, fear, hate, into large trees that take the form of war, death, insanity.
Once you realize this, as you inevitably do after spending close to a year with him in your body, he no longer has any power over you. Because by simply knowing the weapons, you gain the power to fight them.
And still other people will argue, asking me why I’m not heartbroken. Or bitter, at least. Harry Potter rejected me, multiple times. Shouldn’t I be afraid of love? Cowering from the general male population all together? Well my answer is this: How desperate do you think I am?
For Merlin’s sake, yes, I had a crush, albeit a HUGE one, on Harry Potter. But when feelings aren’t reciprocated, and you get to really know the person, they tend to die away. As mine did.
And much to the horror and despair of Harry/Ginny shippers everywhere, we are not soulmates. He will not realize suddenly one day that he loves me, has loved me all along. He will not run into my open arms, and we will not share the kiss of all time and ride off into the sunset on our noble steed.
WRONG! That, as I like to call it, is a fairytale. Often found in people who have a diluded sense of reality.
The last reason I generally encounter as to why I should not be perfectly fine, is the fact of my family’s financial conditions. We’re poor, so what? We love each other, and it more than makes up for it. It’s hard sometimes, wearing second hand clothes, when what you really want is that pretty skirt in the window of the teen’s clothing botique across the street. But you learn to deal, or you find a way to remedy the situation.
And to soothe over the last of the reason why I should not be happy. It’s often believed that I’m bitter, angry, resentful, because, being the last of the family, I often get caught in the shadow of my sibling’s achievements. That my family ignores me, doesn’t really see me, that I am truly loved by no one.
This could be no further from the truth. Being the youngest and only girl, I get more attention than anybody in my family! My brothers always have time for me, and though they drive me up the wall quite often, even George and Fred seem to go easier on me.
And as for the ‘nobody really knows the real me’ thing, well dismiss that from your head. Nobody knows me better than my family! Except maybe Luna, my best friend since second year.
So I come to my conclusion: I have no internal conflict. No war waged inside of me. I’m Ginny Weasley. Not just Ginny Weasley. But I am Ginny Weasley. I’ve been told that I’m pretty, could be beautiful even with a little makeup. But I have no need, I’m comfortable with who I am, so why change that?
I am Ginny Weasley. I’m fiercely competitive, I have a mean right hook, guaranteed to sail through the hoops past the goalie every time, and if I’m mad, get out of my way because my temper is fiercer than my darling brother Ronald’s.
Why then, did Draco Malfoy choose me? Why did he come to me? I stick out of the crowd, but not in the way I would think he would be attracted to. I am Ginny Weasley. So why did he notice me, of all people?
I cannot comfort him the way somebody who has gone through the same things, can. In fact, I’m not even sure he’s gone through anything particularly stressing. Does he have any internal conflicts? It’s something I’m determined to find out.
So why did he pick me? Simple. I am Ginny Weasley.
To Be Continued.
Funnykido is the author of 4 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 2 members. Members who liked I Am Ginny Weasley also liked 208 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 2 members. Members who liked I Am Ginny Weasley also liked 208 other stories.
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