JAGGED MOON

Chapter One

Almost all absurdity of conduct arises from the imitation of those whom we cannot resemble.

- Samuel Johnson

The moon was broken.

At least, that's what it looked like. Ginny squinted and turned her head first to the left, and then to the right. No matter how she looked at it, the glowing orb looked wrong - as though some wandering warrior had taken aim with his blade and cleft the moon in jagged, uneven halves.

She let loose a heavy sigh and shoved her hands deep into her pockets before turning her eyes away from the heavens, which somehow seemed diminished tonight. Perhaps it had something to do with having to endure Malfoy's barbs during recent Order meetings, or maybe it involved being ignored by everyone else again... or could it have been simply because she was unhappy?

Brown eyes focused on the sidewalk in front of her as she walked. Anymore her eyes were constantly fixed on the ground so she wouldn't have to meet other people's eyes with her own. Eye contact with strangers made her uncomfortable - after all, was it not said by someone that the eyes were windows into the soul? There were enough people in the world who could see into her soul without her permission, so why invite more?

Her feet carried her along her well-walked path without requiring much assistance from her preoccupied mind. She used this same route every week; had for nearly three years, now. Her body knew how to get her where she needed to go, even if it didn't always let her know beforehand where it was going to ultimately deposit her.

Tonight she didn't really care where her legs and feet thought she should go; after all, they were in charge, and she was simply along for the ride. Her mind wandered, darting frantically between one subject and another, jumping to and fro, and then back again. She obsessed about Harry, worried over nonexistent finances, remembered how many cracks she'd counted in the ceiling at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Her brain dwelt on how many similarities she'd noticed between Harry and Malfoy; it lingered on the handful of new freckles she'd discovered this morning in the mirror. It circled around the trip she wanted to take somewhere far away. It lit on her current romantic issues.

Her racing mind, she realized quite suddenly, was bringing on a migraine. She winced in anticipation of its metamorphosis from fledgling ache to full-blown, acute pain. There was nothing to be done about it, however. She hadn't a single remedy on her person, and even with the threat of impending cranial agony, she didn't feel like apparating home - or wherever else her feet had the mind to reroute her to.

Her mind continued to wander, and drifted back to a conversation she'd had with Hermione earlier in the day. She'd made a very basic tactical error and, thinking that because they had once been close, Hermione could be a confidante again, s he'd confessed to Hermione that she'd had second thoughts about her engagement and impending marriage. Hermione had chastised her thoroughly and gone on for nigh to an hour about why Ginny was an idiot for having such thoughts. Wasn't Colin a good, reliable wizard? Didn't Ginny feel ashamed for even entertaining for a moment those ridiculous ideas?

Ginny had bowed her head and pretended to feel bad, but she hadn't. Yes, Colin was a good, solid, dependable man. He would make a devoted husband and father, when the time came - she had no doubts about that. She glanced down at the smallish diamond on her finger and sighed softly. Colin was a good man and he very nearly worshipped her, which was nice when compared to the way the other men in her life treated her - the constant cruelty of Malfoy, the cold shoulder from Harry, the protective and watchful eyes of her father and siblings, and the professorial relationship she had with the other Order men.

She sometimes enjoyed Colin's attentions, but as much as he loved her, his real passion was his work, and everyone knew it. How was it, she wondered, that she had become engaged to someone exactly like the man she'd wanted for so long? Harry was the exact same way; he was so passionate about his work for the Order that he was oblivious to everything else around him, including the two women who pined for him - Ginny and Hermione. Ginny had begun to lose interest in Harry romantically, though Hermione was apparently going to hang on for all that she was worth - even if it meant going down with the ship, so to speak.

Ginny, however, was ready to move on.

She wanted more for herself now. Colin would recover, certainly; he would find someone that he deserved to be with - someone who would actually love him in return, the way Ginny knew she could never do. She had a great fondness for him, but in her heart of hearts, she knew that it would never be more than that. It was time to cut him loose. Hermione had asked her what she wanted, if not Colin and the security he could provide. She'd responded that she wanted someone who was stable and exciting. Someone who could be dangerous and completely abandoned at the same time. In short, she wanted a conundrum. Hermione had scoffed and told her that what she wanted was quite impossible, and that no one could be all of those things at once.

Was it so bad to want what she wanted? Hermione had made it sound completely selfish, and she supposed that in a way, it was - but if she didn't look out for herself, then who would? Harry sure as hell wasn't going to do it; he was too busy playing the perpetual martyr. Hermione was tripping over herself to be his right hand, and Ron - well, Ron was just tripping over himself. She shook her head. No, it was time to face facts - she would have to fend for herself.

Come to that, why was she still attending the Order meetings? It wasn't as if they had a pressing need for her particular brand of witchcraft; plenty of the members had skills far more noteworthy than hers. Truth be told, for a long time she'd felt as though they were only keeping her around because she was a Weasley and the daughter of two of their most prominent members. Or it could be because she was the youngest of the entire brood, and they simply wanted her where they could keep their eyes on her.

She was jolted from her thoughts as she realized that she had stopped walking, and she lifted her head to inspect her surroundings. She took a deep breath and removed the engagement ring from her finger, and then pressed the doorbell to the right of Colin's front door.

She heard footsteps approaching, and then a pause; he was probably checking the peephole. The tumblers in the locks screeched with protest as he unlocked the door, and then she was standing face to face with him. His smile physically hurt her; it was like a punch to the gut.

"Hello, love. Come on in." Ginny made no move, and his smile slipped a little bit. "Is everything okay?" She held out her hand, presenting the ring to him. His smile vanished completely. "What's this, then?"

"I can't marry you."

"What? Why not?" He pushed his glasses up on his nose a bit, and she could see the trembling of his hands.

"I'm sorry, Colin. You're lovely, and I am fond of you, but I just can't do it. I hope that someday you can forgive me." She didn't wait for his response; instead she turned and walked away, feeling that the more distance she could put between them, the better she would feel.

Once she'd returned home, she went straight to the bathroom, shedding clothes along the way. She ran a bath so hot that it turned her toe bright red when she stuck it in to test the water's temperature. She sank into the unscented water, wincing at the pain, but welcoming it at the same time; it had to hurt, if it was to heal. Slowly her muscles began to relax, and she let her eyes drift shut.

She only realized that she'd fallen asleep in the bathtub when she was startled awake by someone's voice calling for her from the other room. She stood and wrapped a towel around herself before padding into her family room, where she knew an intervention would be waiting. She was not disappointed, as Harry, Hermione, and Ron were standing in the middle of her living room.

"Wow, that was wicked fast," Ginny said calmly, ignoring the water that dripped down her back from her wet hair. Harry averted his eyes, his cheeks pinking at the sight of her in nothing but a towel. Hermione's cheeks turned red too, but not because she was affected by the wet redhead - her cheeks had heated up at Harry's reaction to Ginny. "Does Colin have you on speed dial?"

"As a matter of fact," Hermione began. Harry stepped in front of her, though he still didn't look in Ginny's direction.

"Look, Ginny, we just came to see what was going on - is there anything that we can do?"

"Nothing is going on. I'm fine."

"You're not!" Hermione accused. "If you were fine, you never would've broken your engagement off."

"I feel better right now than I have since I agreed to marry him, and that was what - six months ago?"

"Seven and a half," Harry replied. Ginny blinked at him, and Hermione's lips tightened into a thin, white line.

"I could care less whether or not you want to marry Colin," Ron said, finally speaking up. "I just want to know that there's nothing wrong with you."

Ginny's expression softened, and she nodded at her brother. "I'm fine, Ron - really." He nodded back and gently touched Hermione's shoulder.

"I think we should go. Ginny probably doesn't feel like talking right now - let's let her get some rest. We can always talk to her tomorrow."

"He's right, Hermione," Harry offered gently. "We just dropped in because we wanted to make sure she was all right." Hermione didn't look convinced, but followed the men without question. Ginny exhaled a puff of air that she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and went to bed.

*******************

The first thing that happened when he awoke was that his mind was flooded with thoughts of Ginny, and her fiery red hair. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his fists and sat up in bed with a frustrated groan. Why now, of all times? Why had she decided to end things now? Almost any other time would have been better than the present.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and winced when his bare feet met with the cold hardwood floor. Buggering fuck! He would not be able to move past this, would he? It was only the morning after, and already he knew that he was going to accomplish nothing this day. His mind was full to bursting with thoughts of her. He'd even spent the previous night doing nothing but obsessing over her and the breakup.

What did it all mean, when he broke it down? Did she simply not want to be married? Was she too young to be tied down? Was she in love with someone else? His pulse raced at that last thought. Whatever the reason for the separation, he was completely occupied with it, and with thoughts of her.

He stood and moved to the bathroom, towering over the sink and examining himself in the mirror. Already tired circles were blossoming beneath his eyes, and he knew that they would only get darker with time. Would she notice? And better yet, would she even care?

A growl escaped his throat as he scrubbed his face roughly with soap and water, and proceeded to manually shave the stubble from his face. Yes, he could have used a shaving charm, but today it would have been more effort than he wanted to exert. Besides, shaving took time, and time allowed him to think. Not that he needed any encouragement to think of her - she'd already taken up most of his thoughts for nearly seven months.

He rinsed the soap off of the razor and touched it to his face a second time. When he closed his eyes, the only picture behind them was of her. Her scarlet hair tinged with streaks of gold, the alluring freckles sprinkled across her nose, and the mischievous sparkle of her sienna eyes. No, it was no wonder that she had taken his mind hostage; everything about her captured the imagination.

He rinsed the razor again and replaced it on the sink before splashing water on his face and inspecting himself. What didn't she see in him? He stared into the mirror, focusing on his eyes. At one time, he'd gotten loads of comments and compliments on them. Now, after witnessing years of war and the unspeakable atrocities that went along with it, his eyes had lost their shine. Even the color seemed muted to him. It was as though whenever someone looked into his eyes, they would be able to see all of the horrors that he had seen. He had started avoiding eye contact with people for that very reason.

When you look too long into the abyss, the abyss looks into you.


Chapter 2