Chapter 1
The woman on the stage could’ve been a nymph. She looked ancient and otherworldly, despite being roughly the same age as Ginny. Her long silver hair was braided and fell over her shoulder, her wand stuck behind her opposite ear. Her eyes were almost unblinking, Ginny felt as if she had to squint in order to catch them. Her dress was a pile of blue tulle, tailored in a seemingly random way, and miraculously it did not impede her walking around the stage.
But what had really caught Ginny’s attention, and what set her apart from all of the singers who had frequented the eccentric bar was her voice. It was some kind of cacophonous harmony, both revolting and beautiful in a way she failed to be able to completely express.There was a sharp danger to it as well, like a broken piece of glass reflecting in the sun. But somehow Ginny felt lighter, so much lighter than she had in ages. Probably some time before her second year.
It felt like she was finally able to breathe, as if, for just a second the war evaporated. She could almost see breakfast laid out as the twins laughed and Harry sat beside her- already accepted as one of them.
Ginny took a deep breath in. And then out.
She put her head in her hands, pushing up against her hair. Maybe she looked crazy, but she was well enough acquainted with the employees that they wouldn’t bother her. She was still technically a war hero, Ginny could barely tell herself that most of the time. The guilt of who she hadn’t saved and who hadn’t made it bubbled up enough to suffocate the words before she could even think of them.
She was torn between laughing and sobbing, she wasn’t sure how exactly she was supposed to deal with this. This may have been the best she had felt in her life, but how was she supposed to move on from this?
After the war had come to an end, Hermione had tried to persuade the rest of them to get treated by muggle doctors. Therapists. It was amazing that the wizarding world considered themselves so advanced but they had almost nothing that compared. Ginny supposed you could just drop all of your memories into a pensieve and go on with your life, but that felt like giving up. Not to mention all of the moments she couldn’t bare to forget.
Though she had, quite recently, felt as if there was something she had forgotten. It was an uncanny feeling, one that she had unfortunately experienced before. But she had stopped writing in diaries a long time ago. There was a part of her that pleaded, just to bloody ask someone. Her mother, or her brothers or justsomeone but the other part of her, that was currently winning out, didn’t want to get any of them worried about her again.
After her second year it had been unbearable. She hadn’t been able to do anything without getting worried glances, and that was if she could get past the prying questions. Locking her up wasn’t going to prevent anything from happening. She hated to admit that it had probably made it worse. She had just stewed in her own sadness
Whenever she thought about that time, the uncanny feeling came back.
The song was almost finished. Which brought Ginny back to her original train of thought.
Could this make it all worse?
The therapists Hermione had gotten her probably wouldn’t have much to say considering they weren’t exactly accustomed to the strangeness of the magical world. Ginny hadn’t heard of anything like this either, the only magical songs were usually from the merpeople. Calling the woman singing a siren just felt like a bad pickup line.
She had stopped going to the appointments. It hadn’t really been intentional, at first she had nothing better to do then go. But inevitably there were things that she couldn’t really communicate. But you couldn’t exactly go around breaking the statue of secrecy when Rita Skeeter had nicknamed you “The-Widow-Who-Lived”. Quite the jump, even for Skeeter. It had felt so ridiculous Ginny had burst out laughing when she saw it. It had made a good majority of her friends cackled at how bizarre their world had become.
The feeling was visceral when the song ended. This was exactly what she had been worried about and also precisely why she should stay as far away as possible. Ginny hadn’t realized how painful it had been, maybe she would have been better not knowing what normal was supposed to feel like after all.
And she certainly had enough experience to stay away from meddling with her mind. But there was an itch in the back of her mind she wasn’t completely sure she would be able to deny. Maybe just one more time, it said, and we’ll figure out where all of this was coming from in the first place.
When she stepped out of the club she almost dropped her coat in surprise.
The singer stood unabashedly looking at her, a soft and sweet smile on her face. And in a voice so gentle yet powerful, she said simply, ”Hello.”
Ginny had blinked and apparated away on instinct. Leaving behind a befuddled enigma.