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edenfallingI have been trying to concentrate on my various and sundry WIPs, but a vague, half-formed story about Ginny capturing Lucius Malfoy, holding him prisoner in secret for years, and practicing torture on him, keeps trying to shove its way to the front of my mind. And it doesn't even have the courtesy to then resolve into a workable plot, style, and so on.
*bashes self upside the head with her spikey mace of enlightened compassion*
Here are fragments of what would be in the story:
------------------------------
There's the bit where she stashes him down in the Chamber of Secrets during her last year at Hogwarts.
There's the bit where she tries to be intimidating with a knife for the first time, and it doesn't go well.
There's the bit where she attempts Cruciatus. I dunno if it works.
There's the bit where she tells him that at least this is personal, whereas he tried to kill her without any second thoughts whatsoever, without any consideration of who else might be hurt. At least she's only hurting him. (And herself.)
There's the bit where she hides him in the basement of her new house, and then binds the room under Fidelius so nobody can ever find it or him.
There's the bit where she cuts out his tongue because he provokes her and verbally gets the better of her too many times.
There's the bit where she examines the scratched calendars he's made on her walls.
There's the bit where she finds herself imagining his skin as she slices chicken for a stir fry. And is horrified.
There's the bits where she has people over, and finds that some days she can forget entirely that he's in the basement. And days when every second reminds her. And she hates that she can forget, and that she can't forget. She stops inviting guests, and goes out instead.
There's the bits where she turns her knife on herself, for various reasons. Because she hates herself for what she's doing, but she can't bring herself to stop -- to either turn him in or kill him. Because she can't just kill him in cold blood, and by now maybe he has the moral high ground between them. Because physical pain is easier than mental/emotional/spiritual. Because the knife is sharp and blood is red and by now she's an expert with slicing through skin and muscle and there's something calming about the steady pressure and the carved designs.
There's the time she tells him the story of the captured fly: one day, when she was younger, she trapped a fly under a glass. And then she couldn't bring herself to kill it, because it was helpless -- but she couldn't let it go, either, because it was a fly. So she poured a few drops of water onto the windowsill, and a drop of honey, and inched the glass over until the food and water were inside with the fly. It lasted three days, but it died anyway. And she's felt guilty ever since, for not killing it outright when she had the chance.
-So I'm a fly?- he asks, using the notepad she sometimes lets him borrow.
She shrugs, as she sits behind him and brushes his hair. -Maybe. And I can't let you go either.-
-And will you feel guilty when I die?-
She slices a line down his arm, and watches the blood run. -Yes- She pricks her finger with the tip of her knife, watches the blood well up. -But no more than I already do.-
He nods. -Good.-
There's the bit where she comes in, several years on, and tells him that Harry asked her to marry him today. And she didn't know what to say. Because she doesn't trust permanent things, and because she doesn't know what she'd do with Lucius then, or how to tell Harry what a huge part of her life she's been hiding.
And there's the bit where she finally does tell Harry... except she doesn't tell him, just takes down the Fidelius charm and waits for him to notice the basement door. And he opens it, and walks down the stairs, and she sits in her living room with her hands folded in her lap and her knife a comforting weight between them, waiting for him to see.
------------------------------
I want this OUT OF MY HEAD.
Because it is contaminating my thought processes and making me want to write a story in which Naruto characters learn the arts of interrogation and torture, and I don't really want to write that either.
*bashes self upside the head with her spikey mace of enlightened compassion*
Here are fragments of what would be in the story:
------------------------------
There's the bit where she stashes him down in the Chamber of Secrets during her last year at Hogwarts.
There's the bit where she tries to be intimidating with a knife for the first time, and it doesn't go well.
There's the bit where she attempts Cruciatus. I dunno if it works.
There's the bit where she tells him that at least this is personal, whereas he tried to kill her without any second thoughts whatsoever, without any consideration of who else might be hurt. At least she's only hurting him. (And herself.)
There's the bit where she hides him in the basement of her new house, and then binds the room under Fidelius so nobody can ever find it or him.
There's the bit where she cuts out his tongue because he provokes her and verbally gets the better of her too many times.
There's the bit where she examines the scratched calendars he's made on her walls.
There's the bit where she finds herself imagining his skin as she slices chicken for a stir fry. And is horrified.
There's the bits where she has people over, and finds that some days she can forget entirely that he's in the basement. And days when every second reminds her. And she hates that she can forget, and that she can't forget. She stops inviting guests, and goes out instead.
There's the bits where she turns her knife on herself, for various reasons. Because she hates herself for what she's doing, but she can't bring herself to stop -- to either turn him in or kill him. Because she can't just kill him in cold blood, and by now maybe he has the moral high ground between them. Because physical pain is easier than mental/emotional/spiritual. Because the knife is sharp and blood is red and by now she's an expert with slicing through skin and muscle and there's something calming about the steady pressure and the carved designs.
There's the time she tells him the story of the captured fly: one day, when she was younger, she trapped a fly under a glass. And then she couldn't bring herself to kill it, because it was helpless -- but she couldn't let it go, either, because it was a fly. So she poured a few drops of water onto the windowsill, and a drop of honey, and inched the glass over until the food and water were inside with the fly. It lasted three days, but it died anyway. And she's felt guilty ever since, for not killing it outright when she had the chance.
-So I'm a fly?- he asks, using the notepad she sometimes lets him borrow.
She shrugs, as she sits behind him and brushes his hair. -Maybe. And I can't let you go either.-
-And will you feel guilty when I die?-
She slices a line down his arm, and watches the blood run. -Yes- She pricks her finger with the tip of her knife, watches the blood well up. -But no more than I already do.-
He nods. -Good.-
There's the bit where she comes in, several years on, and tells him that Harry asked her to marry him today. And she didn't know what to say. Because she doesn't trust permanent things, and because she doesn't know what she'd do with Lucius then, or how to tell Harry what a huge part of her life she's been hiding.
And there's the bit where she finally does tell Harry... except she doesn't tell him, just takes down the Fidelius charm and waits for him to notice the basement door. And he opens it, and walks down the stairs, and she sits in her living room with her hands folded in her lap and her knife a comforting weight between them, waiting for him to see.
------------------------------
I want this OUT OF MY HEAD.
Because it is contaminating my thought processes and making me want to write a story in which Naruto characters learn the arts of interrogation and torture, and I don't really want to write that either.
