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In the Cover of Night | ||||
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Category: Post-HBP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Angst, Drama Warnings: Sexual Situations Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 14 Summary: In the cover of night, no one saw the dirt clinging to the tracks of tears he had shed hours before as he thought of the girl he left behind. The sound of crickets made sure that no one heard him have imaginary conversations with her. No one could know how much he longed to touch her again. Most importantly, no one could ever, ever know how much he loved her. The darkness was his sanctuary, the only place he let his heart take over. Hitcount: Story Total: 6181 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. |
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The evening was his favourite time of day; he was free to stop worrying, stop fighting, and stop being who everyone thought he should be. In the cover of night, no one saw the dirt clinging to the tracks of tears he had shed hours before as he thought of the girl he left behind. The sound of crickets made sure that no one heard him have imaginary conversations with her. No one could know how much he longed to touch her again. Most importantly, no one could ever, ever know how much he loved her. The darkness was his sanctuary, the only place he let his heart take over. He threw another log on the campfire and watched the sparks fly up into the crisp autumn air, disappearing as quickly as they had come. He rubbed his hands together, warming them, briefly allowing his heart to take him back to a certain fireplace in a certain common room. “I think you should cut your hair,” Ginny told him one night, as they snuggled in front of the fire, a blanket wrapped around them. “Why? I want to look cool, like Bill.” His hair fell back on his face, covering the left lens of his glasses. “Harry, Bill’s hair is not cool. It was cool four inches ago. Now he looks like that big blonde on Muggle romance novels.” They both laughed. “If I cut it, it’ll just grow back the next day, so why bother.” She shook her head in resignation. His hair was a sore spot for him. He loved it one day, hated it the next. But she would always love it. “So when do you think Ron will finally wise up about Hermione?” She traced her finger along his ear, exploring every little curve and bump, causing him to shiver, and not from cold. He sighed heavily, pulling her closer to him. “It better be soon, or I’ll have to do something drastic.” “Like what? Write it in the sky?” she suggested. “That doesn’t sound too bad, actually. How much does it cost?” Their laughter filled the air again. His hand brushed across hers as he reached for the bowl of popcorn and he suddenly turned toward her, getting lost in the depths of her chocolate eyes. He watched as they drifted shut and her face came towards him, meeting his lips with hers. His lips were gentle as they grazed over hers and his tongue tickled her lips apart as they got lost in the kiss. H e closed his eyes to the images that flooded his mind. He needed to keep his memories to himself, hidden deep down where no one could find them. Those were the memories that kept him going every day he was away from her. Those were the memories that would put her in danger. He lay down on his back, his face to the sky, looking at the bright stars. They’d never been this bright on Privet Drive due to the city lights, and there always seemed to be too much fog at Hogwarts to appreciate them fully. He had no telescope, but he knew the constellations and wondered if she was looking up at those same stars. “ And that one there?” he asked her. “Orion. Too easy. It won’t be on the written.” She held his hand in hers as they lay on their backs, looking up at the stars on the premise of studying for her OWLs. “Okay, smarty-pants, how about that one?” He pointed with his free hand. “Cassiopeia. You’re not helping me,” she reprimanded him with a teasing tone to her voice. “Okay. Fine. What’s that red one there?” He was glad he couldn’t see his smile. She clicked her tongue against her mouth. “Mars, duh!” “Wrong! It’s an aeroplane. See how it blinks?” He couldn’t hide the laugh that followed, not knowing she didn’t find the humour in it. “I’m going to fail. Plain and simple.” “No, you’re not. You’ll get at least an ‘E’. I only managed an ‘A’.” He stroked her hand with his thumb as he held hers. “I don’t really care about Astronomy. I want to be a Healer.” She turned her face to him in the dark, drawing his gaze. “Wow. You’ll be fantastic,” he said, and he meant it. Ginny was the most determined witch he’d ever known. “Someone needs to put the bad guys back together after you get through with them.” They smiled at each other. “We could work together. You break them; I fix them up for the Dementors. Sound good?” “Sounds great.” He put an arm over his face, blocking the memory. The crickets began their nightly lullaby, which usually helped him to fall asleep. He closed his eyes, attempting the relaxation techniques he learned from Remus Lupin. He slowly breathed in and out, listening to the sounds of the darkness. The wind sped up and he covered himself with the rough military blanket, casting a warming spell. He relaxed further, feeling himself start to drift toward the elusive temptress of sleep. The music of the crickets drifted further away as he fell into unconsciousness. They continued swaying to the music long after it stopped, with their arms wrapped around each other, holding tight as the last of the notes drifted off into the summer air. “Harry, the music stopped.” She touched his cheek. “Are you all right?” “Fine,” he answered. “You’re bound and determined to make this difficult for me, aren’t you?” There was no sound of anger in his voice, only sadness. “It is the Weasley way, after all,” she answered, with a smile. “You know, I…” “No, Harry. I won’t let you talk about tomorrow. Just be here, with me, tonight. Just pretend that you won’t be leaving in the morning and that my heart won’t be broken.” She put a finger over his mouth as he tried to speak. “I’m tougher than my family gives me credit for, Harry, and for that matter, you underestimate me, too.” “I’m sorry. I should have learned that about a year ago.” He kissed her forehead, letting the flowery smell of her shampoo wash over him. He awoke to a shriek from behind him, followed by a deep, menacing, taunting laugh. He sprung to his feet, clutching his wand in his right hand as he sprinted toward the source of the sound. He heard the laugh again and stopped behind a tree, scoping out the situation. He stepped another ten yards, and his heart leapt back into his chest. There was no danger; Ron and Hermione were splashing in the river. Taking a step from behind the tree, he saw their clothes lying on the grass on the bank of the little river. Swallowing hard, he watched as they moved toward each other. Their arms wrapped around each other in an embrace that became more uncomfortable to watch the longer he stood there. Despite the awkwardness he felt, he couldn’t help but smile as his friends allowed themselves a moment of normalcy in a world faced with uncertainty. He was lost. Utterly and completely lost in the girl he was holding in his arms. Her hands caressed his back, sending chills up and down his spine. Her mouth was moving softly against his lips and her tongue teased and chased his. She was pinned up against the hard, cold wall, kissing him feverishly. Soft moans drifted to his ears, making him kiss her even harder, resurrecting the monster that dwelled in the pit of his stomach. Their breathing came hard and fast as they explored each other with frustrated hands. He silently cursed the school robes. The tapestry they hid behind flew aside, blinding them with bright light. “What the heck!” It was Ron. And Seamus. And Dean. And Neville. And half of Gryffindor. Ron’s gaze travelled over his sister’s messy ponytail, untucked blouse, flushed face and settled on the little mark on her neck. His eyes darted back to Harry and took in his state of undress: foggy glasses askew, robe on the floor, shirt half-unbuttoned, and two little marks on his neck. The two of them just stood there, feet cemented to the floor, arms still wrapped around each other. Harry felt blood rush to his face, increasing his temperature about fifty degrees. Several people quickly walked away, in either silence or stifled laughter. Seamus pulled Dean away by the arm, while Neville helped push him along. “What the hell is this?” Ron’s angry eyes demanded an answer. He laughed. For the first time in weeks, he laughed. He discreetly left the riverbank, hoping he didn’t disturb his friends. With a smile, he walked back to the campsite, and pulled out his meagre breakfast of scones out of his rucksack then set to making the coffee he brought. He drank coffee now, only because she drank it, and the smell of a strong cup of coffee in the morning always made him think of her. He stared into the fire, allowing himself a moment to let his thoughts drift back to her. Memories came rushing back to him, making him feel a dam start to build behind his eyes. He fought to keep them back, knowing he couldn’t allow himself to feel at this moment. He had a mission, and it was not the time to dwell on Ginny. The daylight was too harsh a reminder of what he left. He paused to rethink the situation. If love is the power the prophecy speaks of, then shouldn’t he be holding it close, instead of pushing it away? She had never given him anything but strength when he was with her; he only felt weak when she wasn’t around. The battle was no longer a fight to avenge his parents and Sirius’ death, or to fulfil a prophecy made years before. It was a quest to end the darkness of hatred and replace it with the light of love. With that in mind, he scrawled a quick note to his friends, and Apparated to a house with several stories and looked like magic was all that held it together. He crossed the patch of grass, leapt onto the porch, and opened the squeaky screen door. He kept the door from slamming shut and held a finger to his lips as Mrs. Weasley came into the room. The woman stepped aside and there she was his greatest strength, his greatest power, the missing piece of the puzzle. “I need you, Ginny. I need you to help me.” She ran and flung herself at him, filling him up with enough strength to defeat ten Voldemorts. He no longer felt he needed to keep her hidden, in the cover of the night, but proudly have her by his side, for the entire world to see. |
| Reviews 14 |
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