TERRIBLE

[gmwp]

She hadn't worn gloves today, and Ginny didn't know why; she was absolutely freezing. Winter was winding down, but Ginny always ran cold - her hands and feet tended to freeze at night, all year round, and whenever she went outside, even in the end of the coldest season. It was a rare day - not raining, nor snowing - and she needed to get out of the house. She wasn't sure where Harry was; despite living together she found that she saw her husband very infrequently. It was for the best, though, because she was having a lot of trouble coming to terms with what their relationship was destined to become.

The first day she'd been back, Ginny had honestly thought that everything would be okay; she thought that they would be able to move on and be happy. But between their kids and the tension between them - not to mention Harry's health - she was finding it harder and harder to be the wife she was supposed to be. She was finding it more and more difficult to smile and make dinner, to visit the grandchildren they had and tell their daughter-in-law that she was fine, and to hold herself with the pride she'd had since age eleven.

She was becoming someone else - someone she didn't want to be - and Ginny felt terrible. Why, just last night she'd gone to the bar and flirted with any male who looked her way - and she'd been stone cold sober. Immediately afterward, Ginny had felt the need for a smoldering hot shower - she'd felt the need to get that horrible feeling of betraying Harry. She'd not done anything, really, but... well, it had been nice to feel... wanted - even if it was by people who she didn't particularly want. She'd hidden her wedding ring in her pocket and worn a dark wig - she'd looked nothing like the famous Ginny Potter, and she'd loved every second of it.

But now she felt absolutely terrible. Ginny walked down to the park near the home she'd called hers and Harry's for over twenty years, gloveless fingers twisting her wedding ring back and forth on her finger almost absently as he feet led her down the street to the swingset she'd taken James, Albus, Lily, and Ru to countless times.

Maybe this was just how her life would be now; her feeling awful and doing terrible things. Maybe the problem wasn't her psychotic children or her currently incapacitated husband. Maybe, Ginny mused, she was the problem, and there was no solution. She sat herself down on the swing closest to her, looking down at the sand underneath it, then up at the sky above her. Ginny didn't understand when things got so difficult, but she knew that she felt terrible, nearly all the time.

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