Planning. She was really good at planning, patient waiting, building up her life gradually, shaping it just so.. so it will fit into Harry's life. Waiting, patiently.
*
First year, the yearning - it was like a doll, like wanting a doll of very own in the house where everything was hand-me-downs. Just to have and hold, and show others "see, what I got"! Emotions overwhelm her, make her blush and stammer, because.. if she is not careful, she will touch Harry, and if she will touch him, she won't be able to let him go. Ever. So she stumbles and blushes and avoids him at all costs.
Because even in the eleven-year-old mind she understands that clinging to Harry would give her nothing to last.
**
Second year it was like a hunger, ever present, day and night: only it is case of never love enough for her, love and kindness always shared, always.
Oh, to be somebody's only one, to be the sole focus of somebody's life, be the only one. Cherished. Harry.. is polite. That's it.
***
Third year she starts plotting. Emotions will get her nowhere: she needs to find values, find out what Harry wants and then just have to want the same thing.
Simple? Oh, no. That was a hard one: Harry spoke a lot, but said nothing that matters. At least, to her. Finally, at the end of year, a game of Quidditch of all things? Yes! Looking at her? Yes! Seeing her? No. Is she so ugly? Plain? Boring? Stupid? Why?
****
Fourth year, at the beginning of it, she thinks that may be Harry is crazy, sociopath or psychopath, or some other -path /Father's muggle obsession and muggle books are useful/, because he does not pay any attention to her or other people; he lives in his head, only.
At the end of year she seriously contemplates the best ways to kill Ron and Hermione - because Harry does talk, does care.. just not about her. If there is nobody left, then Harry will turn to her, out of loneliness, will he not? This is completely sound line of reasoning.
Only a part of her, the part responsible for her surviving; part cautioning her of being caught before all are dead, all that Harry spoke and touched.. that stilled her wand-hand. For time being. But not for long, if Harry persists in his foolish behavior; namely lack of it.
*****
Fifth year comes and her sanity does not go, despite expecting it for all the summer. Somehow, being around in Hogwarts, being around other people, helps this time; madness recedes, at least for some time. Sharing and caring and following him.. it did not work. Or maybe it did: Ginny now knows with a precision, born out of five years of surveillance, when Harry will turn to Ron, when to Hermione.
She makes sure to be here first, before they catch up with Harry, to be Hermione, to be Ron, to be whatever Harry needs.. and desperately hopes that he will need Ginny one day.
Somehow, this has turned out to be the statement of her value, mission of her life: in order to succeed she needs to prove to herself and all others that she can bend Harry to his will, make her very own harry. What she will do next, she does not know. Because he is not bent, not yet. But will be. She knows.
******
Sixth year is nearing, the summer is here and Ginny is.. happy. Harry touched her face, kissed her, her, Ginny, and he knew she was Ginny.
Life is good, each day is golden: Ginny just knows that in just a year she will be Summer bride (yes, her coloring is better suited to Autumn, but she is not going to postpone her wedding for three months), they will have nine children (she will outdo her mother), Harry will love her and only her, and her future is promised - sealed with a timid Harry's kiss on her cheek under the summer skies in the backyard of the Burrow. She just knows.
It does not matter that there are no more kisses, she just feels in her heart that they are saving themselves for the wedded bliss, till they are legally wed. Harry is calm, well-behaved, a gentlemen. He is not forcing anything. Such a peaceful, harmonic relationship.
Well worth the wait and planning, patience, patience and all the work. She is victorious, happy and there will be happily ever after for them.
******+
The very first day of the sixth year in Hogwarts, it is here and stairs are moving; they are moving as usual, if a little bit more hectic.
Then, as they do, especially in the beginning of the semester, stairs just.. freeze, in a jumble of dead-ends.
So Ginny sees with her own eyes, hears with her own ears, feels with her own magic (this time feels, for real), standing dead still in her brand new robes..
..stuttering Harry, slightly blushing, going down the plain stairs, servant stair, black stair really..
.. touching Severus Snapes' hand, professor’s hand, really light touch.. he is upcoming, loaded with scrolls and notes..
..(and no, this is not the one stair so narrow, where you could not escape touching each other. They both could, they both bloody well could have gone their own ways, without speaking, sans touching, no contact, the student and the teacher)..
..Harry, holding the scrap of parchment, holding and showing to Snape this blasted and trice-damned piece of parchment..
..Harry, softly and hopefully, eagerly and breathlessly (disgusting!), green eyes wide (is he turning into owl? it is not decent!) in the twilight setting early in the castle, asking..
..Harry, questioning if Snape has intended this as an invitation for both of them go out and enjoy London’s fair?
*****
There is pause.
Silence.
Snape, he is not hexing Harry; not taking points.
(Why, what is he waiting for?! )
-Not exactly, Potter, it was more intended for you and your comrades.
Ginny is not vindictive, well not much, Harry should have seen it coming, really.
(What was he thinking? Nothing, as usual, just overblown ego; thinking of himself, thinking that everybody should slave for his behalf, struggle for his affections, work hard – like she did! And she succeeded, by the way.
So, what are you doing, Harry? What is your business to speak with professor in such tone? Is he speaking to all professors in such way?
The fourth year begs to be released from the confines of her brain, with her detailed schemes how and all of them, all who touch and speak to her Harry.)
****
Snape, he stands so still, barely breathing, looks intently to Harry, as if seeing him for the first time. Harry’s, the disgusting perverts eyes, are almost black: pupils blown wide, with tiny sliver of dirty green.
Both of them frozen, almost touching; stairs take away the tiny, yet still existing difference in height.
(The most damning part is recognition of their look: it is a look of Ron, of Bill, of.. her father, looking and wanting and wanting, it is look of Hermione, Fleur, her very own mother..)
Yet Snape, Severus Snape is standing so still so long and staring to Harry, and Harry starts fidgeting, bowing head and hunching shoulders.
(Harry, he is preparing to retreat, with his dignity and idiotic impulsiveness at least partly intact. Harry, her Harry!)
Then, both of them speak simultaneously:
-I.. Professor, I apologize for misunderstanding..
- Harry, sorry.. But why not? What could we lose? I need an hour and then let us go.
***
Harry's smiles, straightens, bows head a little, bouncing on his feet, overjoyed and hair fizzing, straight and proud, and relieved and over-confident again.
- Then we meet in an hour, the usual place?
Snape just slightly inclines head and rushes up the stairs, suddenly seeming years younger and cheerful.
**
All that remains for few seconds is residue of their magic, slowly dissipating, trailing along their respective owners, yet lingering, not willing to part. They did not want to part, their magic wanted to part even less; it mingles together, blends into one.
How strange; even that summer day, with kiss-of-promise from Harry, their magic was like oil and water: flowing along, never merging.. she thought it cute. Proof, that they are different. Unusual.
Then it hits her: Harry? Go? As usual? And What could we loose?!
*
There are more words, snippets, either from memory or imagination..
but most of all, there is roar in her ears, eyes flashing in Avada green, six years crumble around her and really, before she does what Riddle groomed her to do, groomed so long ago, and before she does it to Harry, and her brothers, and Hermione (may she rot in Hell! may she live long and protect Harry, and Ron! and Snape!), and mother, and father and to all of them, all of them, every living wizard and crup..
there is only one thing in the world left to do in her carefully, meticulously planned life: step over the stairs and fall, long, long fall of few seconds
(and magic is dragging out more words, more from future yet to come, not for her to see; as a parting gift: may I you kiss you? call.. let us name her Ginny.. coupled with silver tears: did not see.. sorry, so sorry, like a sister I never had), before she falls in the darkness and eternal peace.
After all, she always had been really good at planning.
Fin.