Between The Lines Of Fear And Blame
Once Cameron had left, Ginny attempted to feed and dress the twins, which was always a difficult task. The twins had somehow figured out that “breakfast” meant “food fight”. Half of the food went into the twins, and half, as always, went all over Ginny and the kitchen. It was everywhere- on the floor, smeared on the table and cabinets, on Ginny’s dressing gown, on her face and in her hair. She handed them a bottle of milk each, which kept them occupied while she quickly cleaned up the kitchen.
Once they were done, Ginny washed and dried the bottles. She picked up the boys, who were covered in food, and carried them along the hallway to the bathroom, one on each of her hips. She’d always loved how children just seemed to fit there so perfectly.
She took off their messy pyjamas and put them in the sink to soak. She could come back and wash them properly later. She wet a face washer and cleaned the breakfast off their faces and hands before carrying them into their room.
For Ginny, dressing them had always been the hardest part of taking care of them. Because it seemed like whenever she picked up one, the other would become restless and start crying, as if from lack of attention. They seemed to know that she couldn’t dress them both at once. Trying hard to ignore Chris’ whimpering, she quickly dressed Albie and then laid him down and picked up Chris.
By the time they got back to the kitchen, it was eleven o’clock, and Hermione was ready to go. She was looking lovely, if not a little tired, in a beautiful pale blue dress.
‘Thanks again for doing this for me, Ginny,’ she said, giving her a quick hug. She kissed the boys on the foreheads. ‘I’ll be back around three, three-thirty, depending on how boring the reception is. See you then. Bye!’
She Apparated, leaving Ginny standing in the kitchen, staring at the closed, empty doorway.
By the time it was two o’clock, Ginny felt absolutely exhausted. She cleaned the kitchen at least five times, and changed the twins twice. She’d played peek-a-boo, read them stories, conjured more toys than she cared to think about, rocked them in both their rockers and her arms, taken them for a walk, fed them, given them milk, burped them, drawn pictures for them, and put them in front of the television her dad had given her a few years ago, but they always seemed to have this restless energy that no amount of activity could burn out of them.
Finally, Ginny got fed up. She picked them up, carried them down the hall, and put them into their beds. She turned off the light, and walked back to the kitchen, ignoring the noises they were making. Two minutes later, they were fast asleep.
Ginny collapsed onto the couch and breathed out heavily. It felt like days, not hours, since Hermione had left, and she realised why Hermione was so tired all the time when Ginny got home from work. She somehow worked her arm under the couch and pulled out a dusty envelope with her name on it in green ink, the seal already open.
It was a lot fatter than it had originally been, because it held much more than one letter’s contents. She held it in her lap, looking carefully at the tidy script on the front of the envelope that she’d read so often. As she pulled out the contents of the envelope, she paused to look at each one carefully. There were the poems, not beautifully written by any means, but always beautiful to her. The pages of lyrics, and the photographs which had helped her in a time when nothing else could. She reached up to her neck, and felt the coolness of the locket on her skin. She hadn’t taken her locket off in almost three years, ever since she’d been given it. These things were remnants of a past that Ginny couldn’t bear to think about anymore. The memories were numb, like they weren’t hers, like they were part of a story someone had told her long ago. That life wasn’t hers, but she was still living in it.
She put the things back in the envelope, and then back under the couch. After a few minutes of simply lying there and staring at the ceiling, she stood and went to look for the Prophet which should have come that morning.
When she found it in the living room, she flicked through the pages until she found the horoscopes, which nobody ever read, and were right at the back of the paper. She skimmed through hers, which said something about being wary of those who offered her tea, and that pink was a good colour this week. It was nonsense, she knew that, but she wasn’t one to pass up a sign if it ever said that a homecoming was due.
She was about to put the paper down, when she noticed a box at the bottom of the page that hadn’t ever been there before. There was no heading, no explanation, no predictions, no pictures. Just a box, containing just two paragraphs of text.
Step one you say you need to talk
He walks you say sit down it’s just a talk
He smiles politely back at you
You stare politely right on through
Some sort of window to your right
As he goes left and you stay right
Between the lines of fear and blame
And you begin to wonder why you came
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
Ginny had never been in an internet café. She’d barely used a computer twice in her life, except for when her father had dragged her to a few courses. They were strange things, and she had no idea how Muggles could grow so used to using them almost every day of their lives. But these words in the paper- a poem, maybe? They were so strange, and mysterious, that she felt that she had to find out what they were. She intended to write to whoever wrote the horoscope page as soon as she did. She wanted to find out if these words were meant for her.
She asked a girl at a table nearby for help, explaining that she really had no idea how to use a computer. The girl agreed, even if she seemed to find Ginny’s lack of competence confusing. She came over and sat in front of the screen, as Ginny looked over her shoulder.
As the internet page opened, she watched with some familiarity as the girl came to the search engine that she’d learnt about at the course, and typed as much of the words as she could into the search bar. The girl moved the mouse with much more expertise than Ginny could have managed, and clicked the ‘search’ button. The screen went blank, before the results of the search materialised in front of her. All of the entries said something along the lines of ‘The Fray- How to Save a Life lyrics and download’.
‘Which one do you want?’ the girl asked, turning her head towards Ginny.
Ginny had a moment of panic. She had no idea, and didn’t want to look like an idiot. ‘Just go to the first one,’ she guessed.
When it opened, the page was full of moving advertisements. The colour, and different columns of text, confused her for a moment, before she saw a heading on the page. ‘How to Save a Life’. Below this, was the text from the paper, as well as four more paragraphs. They were song lyrics. And suddenly, Ginny felt so much more confused than before.
Hopefully it won't get rejected this time.... fingers crossed!!!
Many thanx to The Fray, for the loverly lyrics (great song, btw), and to all those who have read/reviewed the story thus far- I know it's not that interesting yet.
luv ya lots, and c ya next chappie
chlo xoxo
Between the Lines by chocomaniac
Chapter Notes: Sorry this has taken sooooooooooooooo long. You know the story- summer hols, writer's block, computer breakdowns, rejection of chapters....