This is for slightlysmall's Reverse Perspective Competition. My song was Over You – Draughtry, and my prompts were 'threat', 'toffee', and 'table'. This was fun to write.

Beware, I drop the f-bomb once. Rated M for dark themes, not smut.

Ginny felt like she was using him, and to be honest, she probably was, but if she couldn't get her dream man, then someone who shared his dorm could be a comfortable substitute.

Ginny was sat comfortably in the Three Broomsticks, swinging her legs under the table and chatting with her boyfriend, Dean Thomas. He was attractive, it had to be said, with a defined face, dark, smouldering eyes and a kind, carefree attitude. He understood her most of the time, and didn't care that she was a year younger than him. He also very protective of her near the many guys in her own year who were lusting after her, which was sweet… at first. He also seemed defensive near Harry, and Ginny pretended not to know why.

I'm over him, I swear.

Yeah, she had to be realistic in order to take Hermione's advice.

But how could she be? He had definitely grown over the summer; he had filled out the tiniest bit, so that he was lean rather than matchstick skinny, but his always-tousled hair and piercing yet kind eyes had remained the same. His glasses magnified them to twice their size, so that when you looked at him the first thing your eyes met were a pair of glowing orbs the exact glittering shade of green as emeralds, glimmering in the candlelight of Hogwarts with a polite, innocent curiosity. He was incredibly humorous, with his sharp tongue, quick to retort; his eyebrows, which could arch into a flawless sceptical expression; his hand gestures, that could shape out and mould a comeback into something that left people gormless. And his kindness. How he spoke to his best friend's stupid little sister as if he actually cared for what she had to say. Yet he was talking to her more often. What if he was beginning to see her differently? Maybe—

"Ginny, did you listen to anything I said?" asked Dean in annoyance, tapping his long fingers against his Butterbeer glass so that they made a little ping!

God, that was aggravating.

"Sorry, Dean, I was daydreaming," Ginny replied.

Ping!

She could see Harry sitting with her brother and Hermione. Ugh, maybe if not for her brother, Harry would date her. Ronald ruined everything.

Ping!

"Ginny, wake up! Away with the fairies, eh?"

Ping! Ping!

Shut up! The jabbering voices of the Three Broomsticks were rattling around in her brain like a box of marbles being shaken. Her hands twitched with the urge to yank at her hair.

Ping!

"Ginny!"

Harry, Ron, Butterbeer glass.

Ping!

"Ginevra Molly Weasley!"

Voices, Harry, Butterbeer glass, Hermione, eyes, glasses, scar, Butterbeer glass, Ron, Harry.

Ping! Ping!

That was the last straw.

"EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Ginny screamed at the top of her lungs. "Dean, do you know how irritating it is when you tap your nails against your glass?"

Everyone was staring at her. Uncomfortable under the eyes of the pub, Ginny swept her bags from under the table and left without another word, leaving a surge of shocked silence behind.

Their fights were getting fiercer and more frequent, but this was the worst of all.

Ginny was in Dean's dorm, alone, searching under his pile of messy possessions under his bed for her scarf, which she had left there from when she came in to study with him a few nights previously, when Dean emerged from the bathroom.

"You're in a hurry," he said in a bitter, spiteful tone that Ginny had never heard on him before. "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah," Ginny replied warily. She slowed in looking for her scarf.

"Seeing Potter?" He spat out the name.

Ginny glanced over her shoulder at him fleetingly, now a little scared. Her fright didn't reach her voice, however. "Technically."

"I thought so."

Suddenly, there was a rough hand on the collar of her shirt, yanking her up to eye level. Ginny clawed at his grip, as the collar was choking her, but he didn't relinquish. If anything, his hand tightened.

"You listen here, bitch. If you cheat on me—if you so much as flirt, or even bat your long eyelashes at another bloke—I will personally end you. You hear me?" Dean growled with a powerful, dark, strange threat in his tone.

Rivers flowing from her eyes, Ginny croaked, "I hear you."

Dean dropped her hard against the floor. "Remember," he snarled, before leaving the room.

Ginny curled up in the foetal position for a few minutes, gasping and sobbing. This new side of Dean was terrifying her, and she didn't feel at all safe in his company any more. However, coming from the strong and powerful lot she did, she felt it her duty to rise again to her feet and carry on. With her eyes raw from crying, her lungs spluttering from weeping and a bruise already blossoming on her neck, she left for Slughorn's dinner without her scarf.

She told everyone that she broke up with Dean because he kept helping her get through the hole to the Common Room, that is was something silly and pathetic like that, but it was a lie.

Dean had demanded that Ginny come with him to the Room of Requirement, and as to avoid the wrath that was her aggressive boyfriend, she obliged. The Come and Go Room had designed itself into a comfortable little room, with red cushions to sit on, a table with a lone lily in a vase on it, and a queen-sized bed. Dean was already there, kneeling on a cushion and smiling up at her.

"Hey, Gin, would you like to sit down?" he asked politely.

Ginny sat on the cushion.

"I called you here because I want to talk about something."

"Yes?" Ginny whispered.

"I want to take us to the next level," announced Dean.

Ginny was appalled for a moment, and then she said in horror, "What?"

"Oh, don't even think about refusing," Dean growled. "I've been half-hard all day just thinking about it."

Ginny's eyes widened and she scrambled backwards.

All of a sudden, Dean lunged and pinned her down on the table, her wrists bound in one hand. Ginny saw the hunger feasting at his eyes and began to cry.

"Please don't. I don't want to," she sobbed.

Dean's lips plummeted down on hers but stopped centimetres away, faltering. Ginny had one beat to act, and she did, rolling off of the table and tearing her wrists from under his temporarily loosened hold.

"It is over, Dean! I just can't be with you anymore! You scare me every day, and I know I haven't been the best girlfriend, and I took how nice you were at first for granted, and yelled at you, and cried at you, and loved someone else… But I can't live with the uncertainty. Will he punch me today? Will he actually kill me today? Will today be a good day? No! I can't take it!" Ginny wiped her eyes and ran from the room, leaving a crestfallen and remorseful man behind.

Ginny never told anyone but Harry about that, and it remained their little secret. So much later on, Harry Potter and his wife, Ginny Potter, were in Diagon Alley with their six-month-old son, James. James was gumming on his plastic ring, whining as he did so. His teeth seemed to be really bothering him.

"I hope his teeth come through soon. I don't like seeing our baby in pain," said Ginny, cuddling her son to her.

Harry wrapped an arm around them both and smiled. "I'm sure he'll be alright. It can't be too much longer."

Ginny rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Love pulsed around her like a warm heartbeat, and she knew with all her heart that Harry would never turn into what Dean was. He had a short temper—they both did—and they argued a bit, but he would never, ever, ever, ever hit her.

All seemed to be going calmly, just a stroll down the alley, window-shopping… until they saw a familiar face down the road.

Dean stared at the both of them, kissed the tall woman beside him and approached them. Harry and Ginny both tensed up, but forced themselves to relax.

"Hey, Dean," said Harry, a weak smile on his face.

"Hey, Harry," replied Dean with the same smile. Then, he looked at Ginny. "I'm ever so sorry to bother you, but may I speak to you in private, Ginny?"

Ginny hesitated, but then said, "Sure," passed James to Harry and followed Dean into the shadow cast by the Apothecary.

Dean smiled. "So, all married and cosy with Harry now, eh?"

Ginny attempted at a warm grin and nodded.

"What's your son called?"

"James."

"He looks like you."

"I know."

There was obviously something Dean had been meaning to say, but neither brought it up, and after the small talk dribbled away, they stood awkwardly and silently for a moment.

"Hey, I was meaning to tell you something," Dean said.

Ginny was listening. She could see Harry frowning at the both of them, but he didn't interrupt, and for that she was grateful.

"I run a sweet shop now, called Thomas's Tricks 'N' Treats, and I've brought out a new toffee, for adults. I wanted you to be the first to try it, because… ah, you'll see why."

He brought out a little wrapped sweet from his pocket and held it out to Ginny. Taking it, she saw what it was called.

On the golden wrapper, in bold red writing, was, 'Ginny.'

"Because it has gin in it, you see? Gin is a Muggle spirit." Dean smiled. "I'm over you now, Ginny. It took me years to open my eyes again, but our relationship really messed me up for a while, and I am so sorry for that. But when you left, it taught me a lot of things. It made me a man. When you closed that door on me, many more opened. Now I am happily married, and my wife is two months pregnant. I am so sorry for what I did to you, really, but I want to thank you as well."

For all the life of her, Ginny couldn't think of anything to say, so she popped the toffee into her mouth. "It's great. I think your customers will love it."

"Really? You think?"

Ginny nodded and her mouth twitched into a grin, although she was still quite stunned.

"We have a shop a little ways down the street, and one in Hogsmeade. You can come and visit if you like. Friends' discount," Dean invited.

Ginny's smile was genuine for the first time, and she leaned over to hug him.

"I'll be in touch soon," she said, before walking back to Harry.

She felt much better after that, knowing that Dean had gotten over her and was happy with his life now. Although the bitter aftertaste of the fear his actions inflicted on her lingered in her mouth still, she was pleased that her walking away helped him avoid not treating his other girlfriends that way. She taught him a lesson.

She didn't particularly plan to contact him. She wished for him to close a door on her, so he can reap the full benefits of his change of heart. It was over now, and he was over her. He was finally getting closure.

He got over her.