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Can I Be Your Memory? | ||||
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Category: Post-HBP Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley Genres: Fluff, Songfic Warnings: None Rating: G Reviews: 6 Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated since 2006 *** This is just all-around fluff. I must confess, not much of a plot (really no plot, to be exact), but I've wanted to write a songfic for ages. Since there's no plot, I'm not going to do barely anything with this. Thus, it's a one-shot. Lyrics are from the song Memory by Sugarcult. Hitcount: Story Total: 3055 |
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Packing away a final grey sock, Harry’s trunk closed with a heavy thud that wasn’t nearly as heavy as the tangled, twisted mass in his chest that should’ve been a heart. He fell back against the headboard of his four-poster, head titled back to stare dully at the ceiling. The immense weight of Harry’s current situation had struck him already. He’d shed a few tears, and bitten back many more. He was feeling guilty for that. He should’ve been more upset, hadn’t he? He should’ve been more troubled, and angry, hadn’t he? Well, he already was troubled from the start, but that wasn’t anything new. Harry felt selfish. It wasn’t the first time in his life that he did, no no, not the first. He’d felt selfish on many accounts, but not like this. Why did Harry Potter feel selfish? Perhaps because he’d made his headmaster suffer a terrible poison that lead to his demise, or maybe because he was having second thoughts on everything with Ginny. Er, yes, probably the second one. Ginny. Strong, beautiful, loving Ginny, who had never done anything more terrible than standing up for her friends and herself. Ginny, who he had probably turned against himself forever. He couldn’t say that it was meaningless. Obviously she would be a prime target for Voldemort if she remained as close to him as she had been. If, instead of simply being “a Weasley” and “Harry Potter’s best mate’s sister”, she was “Harry Potter’s girlfriend”. He smiled at the thought, the memories: the pretty little first-year that had blushed and hidden behind her brilliant red mane whenever Harry came looked at her; the loyal friend that had still gone with Neville to the Yule Ball, even after Ron had offered that she could go with Harry (which had shut the latter up for a good five minutes); the defiant young girl that had hexed her way out of Umbridge’s office and demanded to accompany her older friends on a dangerous excursion; finally, the wicked Quidditch player. This particular memory invoked a flow of more recent ones, the first of which featured himself doing everything in his power to spend time with her, stare at her, and most importantly, not let Ron know about any of it, for fear of being flatted in a rush of over-protective Weasley brothers. This may never start. We could fall apart. The second of these were the words “quid agis” and a whole hoard of Gryffindors cheering and whooping like crazed…Gryffindors. Then there was Ginny, running towards him, throwing her arms around his neck. Then there was Harry himself, holding her up to him, ducking his head down, and kissing her. Lost your sense of fear. A corner of his mouth twitched, which only led to more guilt. Feelings insincere. Thankfully he didn’t have time to wallow in it, as the door swung open. “Harry! There you are,” said Hermione. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her eyelashes were sticking together in odd formation. “Hey Hermione,” Harry said dully. “What d’you have behind your back?” he asked, seeing that one hand was pulled behind her. “Just Ron,” she said, yanking him into view. “Hiya Harry,” said Ron, not looking like he objected to being tugged around by the wrist. “Ready to go?” “Yeah,” he lied, rising from the floor with his trunk. They traipsed down the stairs, into the common room. Harry winced slightly, hit by another pang of remorse. Why did he have to feel this way? Why couldn’t he just be perfectly selfless, and his longing for Ginny be countered by the knowledge that it was all for her own good? As the Fat Lady’s portrait swung into the wall behind them, Harry suddenly felt that he didn’t want to leave. He felt everything he’d ever loved about Hogwarts come to a close, that the time for laughter and normal life would never come again. It was all slipping away… Promptly he found that they were at the Hogsmeade station, and that Ron and Hermione were looking at him worriedly. He must’ve been silent the way up without realizing it. A small voice brought him out of this horrible, painful stupor. It shook slightly, though sounded like it should’ve been wavering more. It was sweet and soothing, and reminded him of everything he’d ever wanted in his short, twisted life. “Harry?” Ginny was standing a little ways away, clutching something in her palm. “I…I found this in the bottom of my trunk…I must’ve taken it when I broke into your dormitory my first year…You know how stupid we all were back then,” she said with a soft smile, holding out a single white sock to him. “Erm…thanks,” he said, furrowing his brows and receiving the scrap of linen. Written in permanent marker was the name “Dudley Dursley”. Harry couldn’t believe she could remember something like that. But then, he could believe it. Ginny was a clever girl. With purpose written clearly across her face, she opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off. “Ginny! You coming?” said a blonde little girl that looked to be about Ginny’s age. “Er, yeah, sure, I’ll be right there, Ivy,” Ginny said, watching as her friend nodded and trotted off. “Look, Harry…about what we said at the funeral…I don’t think…” she began, but he wouldn’t let her try and convince him of anything; he knew she would succeed. “Ginny, this is how it has to be,” said Harry quietly. “While Voldemort’s in full power, there’s no other way. It wouldn’t be safe. Just forget about me. Find another boyfriend, I don’t know. Just do whatever makes you happiest, alright?” “But what if the one thing that will make you happiest is being with you?” snapped Ginny, suddenly fierce with her eyes ablaze. “Then…change your mind,” Harry replied darkly, positively hating himself as he swallowed the uncomfortable lump in his throat. “I hate you,” Ginny muttered, glaring the trees behind him. Abruptly she looked up, a different sort of look in her eye. “But I love you too… How is that?” “Dunno. Maybe it’s magic,” Harry almost joked, smiling weakly. Ginny gave a single, shaky laugh and rubbed her eye, tears falling away. “Do I really have to forget about you?” she asked softly. Can I be your memory? “I’d actually rather you didn’t. It might be good, even, to remember what it was like before…this,” he concluded vaguely, though Ginny showed every sign of knowing what he meant. “Ginny, if I come back---” “When you come back.” “What makes you so sure that---?” “I believe in you, Harry,” she answered firmly, bright brown eyes gleaming. There was a pause where they simply looked at each other, Harry smiling gratefully down at her, Ginny grinning determinedly back at him. It was as though affection and courage were flowing from one to the other, being tucked away in a sort of reservoir for comfort and consolation. “When I come back, then,” Harry restarted. “If you find someone else between now and then…” “Harry,” Ginny began indignantly. “Do you honestly think that lowly of me?” “No, I think that highly of your looks,” said Harry coolly, continuing as her mouth fell open a bit. “If you find someone else---” “I won’t!” Ginny snapped again. “I don’t care if you’re gone twenty years! When you get back, we’ll pick up right where we leave off today, alright?” But Harry most certainly didn’t have a choice. “Alright.” So get back, back, back to where we lasted, Just like I imagine I could never feel this way. “Ginny, come on!” Ivy moaned, her impatient head poking out from a cluster of whispering girls. “Just give me a minute, Ivy! The train isn’t going anywhere!” Ginny retorted, turning back to Harry. “I guess…this is g’bye, then,” Harry muttered. “Yeah. I…I guess so,” Ginny replied thoughtfully. “For now, atleast,” said Harry, smiling a bit. “Oh, Harry,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck as if she never wanted to let go. He pulled his own arms around her, because he didn’t want to either. He wanted to freeze time, right here and now, so that he never had to come back down to the real world, the horrible, twisted, real world. So get back, back, back to the disaster. My heart's beating faster, holding on to feel the same. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Six months after they’d spoken at the Hogsmeade station, Harry and Ginny lay a quarter-world-length away from one another. Harry was fast asleep with exhaustion, though Ginny was wide-awake. Pig was perched atop her dresser on the lampshade, giving soft, churring snores. She glanced over at him grinning as she wondered what would happen if she turned on the Muggle contraption with the tiny owl still atop it. This distraction, however, was short-lived, as her thoughts quickly switched to Harry, Hogwarts, and the year that could’ve been had. Of course, the whole idea was improbable. Hogwarts was closed, and Harry was gone until further notice, as were Ron and Hermione. Ginny wondered if, should Hogwarts reopen next year, or even the year after that, would they be back from their journey? This may never start, I'll tear us apart. They had such nerve! To leave on a secret mission that they wouldn’t even tell her about! Weren’t they her friends? Wasn’t Ron her brother? Wasn’t she entitled to atleast know why they were leaving for a seemingly endless expanse of time? Can I be your enemy? Seemingly endless. Maybe it was, how should she know? Maybe Ron had eloped with Hermione, and Harry had tagged along because… And that was it. Harry had no reason to leave her. The way he’d looked at her that day on the platform… Losing half a year. Waiting for you here I'd be your anything. It was at that moment that Ginny Weasley realized that the wasted sixth months of hope and worry, and any that came after it, would always be worthwhile, because Ginny Weasley was in love with Harry Potter, and always would be. She simply hoped that he always would be, too. Can I be your memory? And, a quarter-world-length away, her hopes were fufilled in the dreams of a boy with messy jet-black hair and startling green eyes. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • A/N: And there it is! The most basic, plotless, boring, and basically meaningless fanfic on the face of SIYE! (Honestly, I think I took every shortcut out there.) Well, hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to flame me. I'd probably deseve it anyway. Heh. |
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