Thread: After the End (Harry Potter, KC and Googl)

Ginny She passed a fitful night plagued by nightmares of what had happened to Ron and what she feared had happened to Harry. Without her wand she felt incredibly vulnerable, it was much more distressing to be wandless and defenceless than to have to walk around in her underwear. Ginny had a cry during the middle of the night. The magical community had little patience with religion but Harry had taught her about the Christian primary school he had gone to and how many muggles believed that there was a supreme deity that had created the world. Ginny had never uttered a prayer before in her life but she had witnessed Harry pleading with some imaginary fate at times of extreme stress and she thought it prudent to hedge her bets. Perhaps he was lying in the same darkness somewhere, praying to God for her safety, so t was the least she could do to pray for his. Um... God? She whispered, clasping her hands as she had seen people do in pictures during muggle studies. I know I'm a witch and that historically, your people haven't really approved of mine... not that they ever actually caught any and not that we have any truck with demons but... She grimaced. Talking of demons just brought the wreckage that had once been Tom Riddle to mind and besides, she was getting away from the point. Look... I know Harry was brought up to believe in you and well, for all I know I guess you could exist. Harry though... She swallowed hard, suddenly serious. Harry is the best... the only hope we have, for wizards and muggles alike. The prophecy said that 'neither can live while the other survives' and so Harry just has to be ok. That is to say, um... please God, please watch over Harry and make sure Voldemort is defeated one day soon. There will be an age of darkness for muggles if Harry dies. Please God... I love him. Watch over him for me. Um... thanking you in advance... Ginny Weasely. She dozed fitfully until dawn, whereupon a house elf appeared with some robes that could only be Bellatrix's. Ginny supposed they were of a similar height and build. The thought of some kind of punkgothic robe shop in Diagon Alley almost made her laugh for a moment but no, a wealthy pure blood witch such as Bellatrix would have a tailor and a house elf. Ginny pulled on the black robes, which were artfully slashed in places and overstitched with ruched black velvet across the bodice to give the impression of a fuller bust. Ginny had no desire to wear Bellatrix's clothes, the thought was revolting but as the alternative was staying in just her underwear, Ginny consented to put the gown on. Undergarments were also provided to her and Ginny found very quickly that her white crop-top looked ridiculous beneath Bella's low cut black gown. Ginny wound up wearing the black strapless bra and thong provided to her. Bella's gown cinched in Ginny's waist and enhanced her modest bust. It was figure hugging and sophisticated. Just wearing the dress altered Ginny's posture, for it was not possible to wear something so confining without walking erect and thereby lifting her breasts and ass slightly. Ginny was also provided with pantyhose and a pair of Bellatrix's exquisite knee high black leather boots. They were soft, and comfortable, despite their tall heels. Ginny couldn't even begin to guess how much gold Bella had spent on them. They hugged her calves like a second skin, added three inches to her height and forced Ginny to sashay about in a manner to which she was exceedingly unaccustomed. The house-elf returned with her breakfast porridge sweetened with honey. Ginny sniffed at it experimentally and again asked the elf to taste some. The elf complied with great alacrity and then left her. Ginny ate the porridge, knowing that whatever the day had in store, starving herself would do her no favours. Eventually she was summoned to Lord Voldemort and for some reason she was taken to him by a house elf rather than a death eater. Ginny had seen enough of Dobby's powers to know that elves were far from defenceless. Besides that, she was feeling distinctly light headed. Ginny put this down to her poor night's sleep and the constant stress of her predicament. Walking through to Voldemort's throne room in Bella's heels, Ginny felt almost... tipsy, like nothing really mattered and everything was going to be fine. She instructed herself to get a grip. Ginny walked awkwardly into the throne room and scanned it until her eyes fell on Voldemort. Immediately her mind conjured Tom Riddle, with his deep voice and disturbing beauty. The familiar wellspring of hatred of and contempt for Voldemort from which Ginny was accustomed to drawing in his presence was absent. The realisation was like falling to the floor after someone moves your chair as a prank. The solidity you were expecting to encounter just isn't there and as Ginny fell into the void her mind had become she began to panic. He smiled at her. It was an encouraging smile. Ginny felt her own mouth-corners turning up in response and then checked herself. She hated this man! He was evil incarnate! He beckoned her towards him and since Ginny had no desire to be dragged screaming she complied. Then all of a sudden there were two of him Voldemort and Tom Riddle, side by side. Although Voldemort was the actual wizard in the room, Ginny's feelings were complex. She stared up at Tom Riddle with obvious ardour and it took her a long moment to realise that Tom was merely a reflection. The Mirror of Erised! But Tom couldn't be what she wanted most in the world! She hated him. ... didn't she? Ginny turned once more to Voldemort. She was not attracted to this shell of a man but the animosity she felt towards him was evaporating. Then her attention was caught by the mirror, in which another Ginny was being kissed by Tom. He kissed her ardently, holding her tight. In Ginny's mirror fantasy there was no sexual overtone. She was still too shocked and disoriented to become aroused.