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SIYE Time:20:20 on 28th March 2024
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A Glint Of Gold
By hpmaniac666

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Category: Post-HBP
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley
Genres: Fluff
Warnings: Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 12
Summary: Harry's always been good at catching the Golden Snitch. But something equally valuable seems to be sliping through his fingers... Takes up straight after HBP, One-shot.
Hitcount: Story Total: 7155





Author's Notes:
Author notes:
Well, I came up with this idea out of no where, but this is fic is basically just my need to vent a little of my frustration on the end of H/G. I wrote it over the space of 2 afternoons that should have been devoted to my psychology coursework, however…. I’m pretty pleased with it. It has a lot more narrative and a lot less dialogue than my other work, which I feel is a good thing ‘cos for me it’s normally the other way around. Anyway feedback! I’m sure I’ll lose a few people with all the narrative, but it’s always been my weakness. Ok, I’m babbling now. Please read and review! I probably should have beta-ed this thing…. Oh, and Lyrics are from Spandau Ballet - Gold





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Disclaimer: All the characters, scenarios etc are JK’s. Gutted.

A Glint of Gold

Oh but I’m proud of you,
but I’m proud of you
There’s nothing left to make me feel small
Luck has left me standing so tall
Gold
Always believe in your soul
You’ve got the power to know
You’re indestructible
Always believe it, ‘cause you are
Gold
Glad that you’re bound to return
There’s something I could have learned
You’re indestructible, always believe it


Harry was dreaming again. This wasn’t so unusual, Hermione contemplated, and this wasn’t one of the worst dreams. Compared to his moans of terror from the previous night, Hermione was almost grateful for the stilted gasps and groans which reached her ears as she lay in a wobbly camp bed in Harry’s bedroom at Privet Drive.

Her sleepy eyes wandered over to Ron, who was sprawled out on sofa bed in the corner of the room. His snores filled the room, and Hermione felt reassured by them. Constant, steady and strong. They made her feel safe. Smiling sadly, she let her eyes drift back closed and in minutes she was sleeping softly.

Harry, however, was having no such luck. His mind was struggling in vain to reach a conscious state, to retreat from its sticky game of tug of war between the shadows in his nightmares and…something else. Something much more pleasant. A glint of gold.

In a jolt, Harry woke up, sweat pouring off his face as he propped himself up onto his elbows. Breathing heavily, his prised open his muggy eyes and instinctively glanced at his two best friends. He allowed himself a small smile at Hermione’s tiny sleeping frame and Ron’s familiar freckled face — not many people had friends who would stand so much — but even this comforting thought couldn’t calm him.

It was ironic really, that after the death of his beloved headmaster, after the realization of what he was facing, after taking the first step on this awful journey, that the thing that was getting him down, the thing that was creeping into his dreams and shocking him into a guilt-induced awakening was…a girl.

Pathetic, Potter, he berated himself furiously, pummelling his pillow angrily. Ron gave a sleepy grunt and Harry looked over guiltily at him. What would Ron do if he knew Harry had been dreaming about his little sister? Harry sighed and pressed his hands against his aching eyes. It wasn’t as if it had been anything like…that. It always happened just as he was clawing himself back to consciousness, trying desperately to escape from his nightmares. And he didn’t see her, not really. He just….felt her.

The truth was that Harry had thought of precious little else, other than Ginny, over the past few days. Hermione had been pouring over the many books Ron had sneaked out of the Hogwarts library on the day of Dumbledore’s funeral. But Harry could bring himself to concentrate on what she was telling him, though he furiously reminded himself often enough that this was his task, his burden.

Harry slumped back against his pillow, any attempt at further sleeping abandoned. The clock beside him flashed four ‘o’ clock. He ran his fingers through his scruffy, black hair, contemplating vaguely that he really ought to wash it one of these days. He sighed again, thinking back to the last time he had seen Ginny. At the wedding…

It had been torture. For the week leading up to it, they’d talked reasonably normally, and Harry had been impressed, and if he was honest, a little hurt, at how well Ginny appeared to be taking things. But on occasions, just for a split second, like when the knife she was using to peel carrots slipped and cut her finger, or she tripped down the bottom stair, or she couldn’t reach something on the highest shelf, he caught a glimpse of an expression that shook him. Because he could see what he was doing to her. And he hated himself for it. On these occasions, it was all Harry could do not to seize her and wrap his arms tightly around and swear to never let go… he blushed at the thought of it. Harry wasn’t used to feeling like this, like he had wandered accidentally into a romance novel. But what was this he was feeling, if not love?

Harry gazed out of his barred window at the stars littered across the sky. He’d never thought about love before. Sure he knew he loved Ron and Hermione, knew he had loved Sirius, knew he loved the Weasleys. But love….being in love. Harry had always thought of that as something in the future he didn’t have to worry about yet. Like getting a job and learning to cook for himself.

Maybe Voldemort was right after all. Maybe love would be his downfall, his weakness.

He closed his eyes again, trying to relax them. She had been so beautiful, walking down the aisle, cheeks tinged pink as all eyes landed on her. Hermione had given Harry an understanding look, so it must have been obvious that his heart had stopped beating and his skin was on fire. But she had been so stunning, so glowing, so incandescent. A glint of gold.

He had spent years trying to catch the golden snitch. He’d never had a problem catching that gold.

He shook himself. He had to stop this, stop going through the same thing in his mind. Ginny and he were no longer together, and that was the way it had to be. That’s what he had told her. That’s what he had told himself. That’s what his eyes had told her when she had turned to him and given him a wistful smile. Even her hair had looked golden. When had she gotten so beautiful?

Giving up on rest entirely, Harry clambered out of his bed, stepping carefully over where Hermione was sleeping fitfully, her glossy hair fanned out over the pillow. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window for a moment. He watched one of Mrs Figg’s cats dart across the road and disappear from the pool of light from the lamppost. Harry wiped the condensation from his head and quietly left the room, heading for the kitchen.

Here he poured himself a glass of water and perched against the dishwasher, drinking deeply. He thought back to the day that Lupin and the Order members had crowded into this very room, when they’d arrived to fetch him. He gazed out of the window where he had seen the sparks rise into the sky. He could see them now…wait…he really could see them now.

Harry’s heart dropped like a stone. He took a step towards the door, knowing he should really wake Ron and Hermione, but maybe they would be safer if he left them here. Harry shook his head. He couldn’t cope with making decisions like that any more, and he knew he would feel better with them along side him. His feet carried him out of the kitchen but before he could reach the stairs he heard a soft knock on the front door. He slowly turned to face it, puzzled.

Why would anyone be here at four in the morning unless they were bringing trouble? But if it was the Death Eaters, or worse, they wouldn’t be knocking. Suspiciously, Harry stepped towards the door, peering through the frosted glass panels. It was a small figure, but it was too dark to tell who. Harry frowned.

But then the figure took a small step back, as if unsure. The figure stepped into the porch light and Harry’s eyes widened. He’s seen it. The figure’s hair glowing in the light. A glint of gold.

Without thinking, he flung open the door. Ginny was standing there, freezing by the look of things, biting her lip nervously, her head tilted back as the stared at the windows above. She started as the door swung open, and he saw her face fill with relief. However, now that he’d seen who it was, Harry was starting to realise exactly what that meant. Without a word, he grabbed her hand and dragged her roughly inside, closing the door as quietly and quickly as he could behind her.

“Harry, what-” she gasped, but he covered her mouth with his hand.

“Be quiet!” he told her furiously, pulling harder on her arm and drawing her into the sitting room. He thrust her unceremoniously onto the settee.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded lividly.

“I-” she began, appearing wrong-footed.

“Are you completely crazy?” he hissed, interrupting her. “Do you know who could be out there? Who could be watching this house? Have you any idea how dangerous it is to be wandering the streets alone at this time, especially now and especially when you’re a g-”

“A girl?” she cut in heavily, her own cheeks beginning to redden in anger. “You think just because I’m a girl I can’t look after myself. Don’t be such a bastard!”

Harry groaned in frustration. “Don’t make this into a sexism thing. I mean because girls are more at risk. Even if we weren’t at war, and you weren’t outside the house of their number one target, there would still be murderers and rapist!”

Ginny looked ready to retort, but apparently couldn’t think of an answer to this, so she lowered her eyes, her cheeks pink. Harry furiously gave himself an internal reprimand for noticing how her hooded jacket clung to her figure at a time like this.

He sat down next to her heavily. His head was aching so much that even his hair seemed to be weighing it down, pressing into his skull. He buried his aching head into his hands. For moments, there was nothing, and then he felt her fingers curling through the tendrils of hair creeping down the back of his neck, massaging him gently. He let out a silent, happy sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, and she must have been close, because he could feel her breath on the skin of his jaw line.

“How did you get here?” he asked the palm of his hands.

There was a pause. “Tonks brought me. She’s been bugging me for ages to tell her why I’ve been upset. So today I just spilled everything and she brought me here.” There was another pause. “No one else knows,” she whispered.

Great, thought Harry. Mrs Weasley is going to be thrilled with me when she finds out.

“I really am sorry,” Ginny said again in a tiny voice.

He shook his head, but only a little, because it still hurt.

“Don’t be.”

He paused.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he told her, and his traitorous voice cracked as he said it.

Silently, without a look between them, he lifted his arms and she slid into them, his hands curling round her waist and her head nuzzled into his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted, burying his face into her wonderful hair.

She gripped his arm tightly and said nothing. He held her tighter, feeling her shiver.

“You didn’t think this through,” he observed, smiling down at her thin jacket. She looked up at him and gave a weak smile, her eyes filled with water. Softly, he reached down and lifted a section of her hair, letting it trickle through his fingers like sand. Golden red sand.

“I-” he started, then stopped himself. What had he even been trying to say?

Absently, he let his hands fall down on her arms, rubbing them gently up and down. “Better?” he murmured, and she nodded mutely.

“Why were you awake?” she asked, leaning against his chest and making the creature within it purr.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

She looked up at him concerned. “It’s fine,” he assured her, but she didn’t look convinced.

“Where are Ron and Hermione? Asleep?”

Harry nodded.

“Any progress there?” she asked, smiling slightly.

He tapped his finger playfully on her nose. “That’s for me to know…”

“Harry!” she exclaimed, and he grinned.

“Nothing official. But, I think they’re almost there.”

She smiled, sadly this time. “Good for them,” she said, somewhat bitterly.

“Ginny,” he said warningly.

She looked at him hard. “What? Are we a taboo subject now?”

Harry sighed, looking away. She felt so good in his arms. He gripped her tightly for a second, and then moved away.

“Harry,” she repeated, sounding hurt.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he told her, getting to his feet.

She just stared at him, her eyes wide and beautiful. She was so beautiful. Harry felt his resolve weaken again.

“Listen,” Harry said, falling to his knees in front of her. “I know this is horrible. But the alternative is worse.” She tried to cut in but he forced him self to go on. “I can’t let you risk your life, I won’t let you risk your life! There’s nothing you can do now, so please, go home, look after your mum, try to make the most of your life! Why can’t you try to be safe! I need to know you’re safe because I can’t stop thinking about you, worrying about you, and it’s killing me! Don’t you understand? I love you!” He spat the words out like they were a curse, then froze. He hadn’t meant to say that, it had just slipped out.

She surveyed him calmly, then her eyes fluttered shut. She looked about as exhausted as Harry felt. She clung to his hands, resting them on her lap.

“I love you too,” she breathed.

Harry felt his throat tighten. He leaned forward, his chin perched on her knees, and reached up to stroke her face. He drew a single finger down her jaw line, round the curve and down her neck and along her collarbone, loving every dip and bend of her smooth skin.

“Harry,” she murmured pleadingly, her eyes still closed.

He levered himself up so that his face was level with hers. Gently, he swept her hair deftly over her shoulders, un-tucking the strands caught in the folds of her jacket. She moaned slightly as he slipped his warm hand under the material, letting it rest in the crevice between her neck and her shoulder.

“Harry,’ she gasped, more insistently.

You shouldn’t be doing this, you shouldn’t be doing this, said the voice in his head as he cupped her face in his hand and leaned in, closer and closer. His hands slipped fluidly down her side and onto her waist, her jacket falling from her shoulder as he did. Her lips met his as if she knew exactly where he was without looking. Harry took one last look at her beautiful face and let his eyes drift closed.

Her lips were so, so soft. The way her hands were curling underneath the pitiful old T-shirt he wore to bed was making his head go cloudy; he felt drunk. Losing all sense of reality, he pressed more firmly against her, feeling her finger nails scrabble against his back, pulling him closer. Before he knew it, he was on top of her, his lips locked with hers, his breath in time with hers, their legs and their arms tangled together. Her lean body sliding and wriggling beneath him, her legs circling his waist….no…

A dull thought was creeping into the back of Harry’s mind. Stop…..it was saying…stop…. Harry groaned involuntary as her deft hands caressed his waist line. His own hands seemed to have a life of their own, sneaking up and down her sides, pushing her top further up and up. He didn’t even notice his own T-shirt riding up until he felt the tantalising shock of her chest pressed against his. And still the voice, telling him to stop….to… stop…

He felt dizzy, he felt a heady thrill as her body twisted round his. She was moaning softly, and it exhilarated him all the more to know that it was him making her feel like this, him doing this to her. All thoughts of stopping left him as her hand slipped under his waistline and he gasped in gratification, peppering her neck with kisses, and finally, letting his own hands rove exactly where they’d always dreamed of going.

He didn’t know how long they lay there, kissing furiously on the stiff, unforgiving settee. A loud grunt from upstairs jolted them apart; breathing heavily, they stared at each other, then Harry tilted her face towards his and kissed her once more, as softly as he could. She gave a soft moan of delight and smiled at him. Without a word, he wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her, resting his head on hers as their breathing began to steady.

“Harry,” she murmured.

“Mm?”

“Tell what you’re planning on doing,” she begged.

He looked down at her sadly. “I can’t. And even if I could, it would just worry you even more. I don’t want that.”

Ginny chewed on her bottom lip. “I know you don’t but…” She looked away, staring around the unfamiliar room at the strange muggle objects surrounding her.

“What?” prompted Harry gently.

She hesitated. “I don’t want to sit around at home and wait,” she mumbled, not looking at him. “I don’t want to be treated like I’m to weak or that I can’t help because I’m a g-”

“Ginny, this has nothing to do with you being a girl,” Harry told her. “It’s to do with me being in love with you. And that making you a target.”

“No more than Ron and Hermione,” she argued. “No more than you.”

Harry shook his head sadly.

“Please,” he said and she quietened. “I don’t want you to have to wait either.” He sighed, stealing himself, and then said, “So don’t wait. I don’t know how long I’m going to be gone. It could be years….I want you to move on. Forget about me. Get on with your life.”

Ginny’s eyes filled with tears.

“That’s twice you’ve tried to get rid of me,” she said.

Harry gave a weak laugh. “I’m not very good at it, I know,” he said.

She shook her head, frowning. “You’re not taking the hint. You can’t get rid of me. I don’t care what I have to risk. I don’t care how long I have to wait. I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not ever.”

He stared down at his lap.

“You’re really something aren’t you,” he said after a moment.

She smiled. “I like to think I’m pretty valuable, yeah,” she joked.

Indeed, Harry thought, as he leant in to kiss her, you’re worth your weight in gold.


Reviews 12
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