I Just Wanted to be With You
Title: I Just Wanted to be With You
Pairing: Ginny/Hermione, mentions of Hermione/OC
Rating: Bordering PG-13/R for drug use and suicide.
Length: ~610 words
Summary: Post-war. One of them keeps promising she'll be there but she never comes. The other can't take it anymore. Oneshot.
Author's Note: My very first published fanfiction.
Nobody knows she doesn’t actually go on business trips. Nobody knows where I go on holiday. Nobody knows that 18 June, 1997 was first time Hermione Granger kissed me. Nobody knows that now, ten years later, behind her husband and daughter she has me. Nobody knows of the Sapphic nights we spend together at Muggle hotels, her brunette hair mixing with my flaming red, our bare torsos rarely apart.
She doesn’t know that each weekend we are together a piece of my heart leaves with her Sunday evening. She doesn’t know that weekends I’m not with her are spent with a needle trying to find a vein so I can feel the rush I felt when I was with her.
My family sees a happy young woman who runs around the world playing Quidditch. I’m only doing it in hopes that the next hit knocks me to the ground and I meet my death. I hate it. My life, I hate it. I want her, only her. I want her forever, every day. I see her four times a year if I am lucky. Those are the only times when I am happy. Really, truly, undeniably happy.
I know why I do this. I do. I know why I am entranced by the scent of her chestnut brown hair. I know why I am hypnotized by her chocolate brown eyes. I’m in love with her. I have been since the moment our lips first touched. No one else has ever come close to making me feel like she does. No one. Ever.
I would drop the needle if I had her. I would. The heroin, I need it when she isn’t there. She started noticing the track marks a year ago. Each time we’re together she kisses them and tells me everything will be okay. She tells me she’ll come to me Monday morning and we can start our lives together. Every Monday I wait for her. She never comes. The feeling of the drug courses through my veins keeping me from the reality of her not being there.
Today is Monday 18 June, 2007. Last night she told me what she always tells me, that she’s leaving him and we can start our lives together. It’s 11:58pm. She’s not here. I can’t do this anymore. I’ve been saving the drug. I draw up enough of the liquid in the syringe to kill me three times over. I wait. 11:59. I start searching for a vein. I find one. I stare at it. The clock strikes midnight. It’s Tuesday. The needle pricks my skin. I draw back blood and smile. My pain fades away as I press the plunger.
The last thing I see is her appearing out of thin air with a suitcase in her hand. The last thing I smell is her chestnut brown hair. The last thing I feel is her hand on my cheek. The last thing I taste are her lips against mine. The last thing I hear is her begging me to hold on.
“Ginevra Weasley, don’t leave me like this.”
I try. I really try to stay. I manage for a few words to escape my lips before I go.
“I just wanted to be with you.”
Pairing: Ginny/Hermione, mentions of Hermione/OC
Rating: Bordering PG-13/R for drug use and suicide.
Length: ~610 words
Summary: Post-war. One of them keeps promising she'll be there but she never comes. The other can't take it anymore. Oneshot.
Author's Note: My very first published fanfiction.
Nobody knows she doesn’t actually go on business trips. Nobody knows where I go on holiday. Nobody knows that 18 June, 1997 was first time Hermione Granger kissed me. Nobody knows that now, ten years later, behind her husband and daughter she has me. Nobody knows of the Sapphic nights we spend together at Muggle hotels, her brunette hair mixing with my flaming red, our bare torsos rarely apart.
She doesn’t know that each weekend we are together a piece of my heart leaves with her Sunday evening. She doesn’t know that weekends I’m not with her are spent with a needle trying to find a vein so I can feel the rush I felt when I was with her.
My family sees a happy young woman who runs around the world playing Quidditch. I’m only doing it in hopes that the next hit knocks me to the ground and I meet my death. I hate it. My life, I hate it. I want her, only her. I want her forever, every day. I see her four times a year if I am lucky. Those are the only times when I am happy. Really, truly, undeniably happy.
I know why I do this. I do. I know why I am entranced by the scent of her chestnut brown hair. I know why I am hypnotized by her chocolate brown eyes. I’m in love with her. I have been since the moment our lips first touched. No one else has ever come close to making me feel like she does. No one. Ever.
I would drop the needle if I had her. I would. The heroin, I need it when she isn’t there. She started noticing the track marks a year ago. Each time we’re together she kisses them and tells me everything will be okay. She tells me she’ll come to me Monday morning and we can start our lives together. Every Monday I wait for her. She never comes. The feeling of the drug courses through my veins keeping me from the reality of her not being there.
Today is Monday 18 June, 2007. Last night she told me what she always tells me, that she’s leaving him and we can start our lives together. It’s 11:58pm. She’s not here. I can’t do this anymore. I’ve been saving the drug. I draw up enough of the liquid in the syringe to kill me three times over. I wait. 11:59. I start searching for a vein. I find one. I stare at it. The clock strikes midnight. It’s Tuesday. The needle pricks my skin. I draw back blood and smile. My pain fades away as I press the plunger.
The last thing I see is her appearing out of thin air with a suitcase in her hand. The last thing I smell is her chestnut brown hair. The last thing I feel is her hand on my cheek. The last thing I taste are her lips against mine. The last thing I hear is her begging me to hold on.
“Ginevra Weasley, don’t leave me like this.”
I try. I really try to stay. I manage for a few words to escape my lips before I go.
“I just wanted to be with you.”