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Incommunicado | ||||
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Category: Post-HBP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Angst, Drama Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 3 Summary: Harry hunts Horcruxes and thinks of Ginny. She tries to be patient and thinks of him. But with no way to communicate, they are united only by their disconnect. Hitcount: Story Total: 3498 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. Author's Notes: The JubJub bird is, of course, from Lewis Carroll's poem "The Jabberwocky," in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Some of the themes in this fic are things I've been playing around with for a while -- regular readers may notice similarities to some of my short ficlets. |
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Ginny Ginny stood at Fleur's side in the ice-blue dress robes that were so unflattering to her and listened to her brother say his vows. The garden at the Burrow was filled with family members and friends. There seemed to be a redheaded Weasley everywhere, but there was one person that she had yet to see. A movement in the back of the audience caught her eye, and Harry stepped into place. He'd made some effort to smooth down his unruly black hair, but he was dressed in old jeans and a ratty t-shirt and carrying a large knapsack, and looked horribly out of place amongst all the formally-robed wizards. He met her eyes, and even from such a distance, she could see the pain in his face. He was the first one to look away, and as she watched, Ron and Hermione slipped away from their seats and joined him. By the time the ceremony was finished, they were gone without a word. She didn't know what she would have said to him, but she would've liked to say something. Harry Godric’s Hollow was green and grassy and shimmering with midsummer heat, and there was little left of the house where Harry’s parents had died save rubble. Ron and Hermione cast looks at him from the corners of their eyes when they thought he wasn’t looking, and he wandered around the edges of the garden while they searched the house. He thought of his parents’ screams, and the way they’d sounded filtered through the chill of the dementors. Did they really sound like that, when Voldemort came here to kill them? Or was that just a trick, too, another way he’d been deceived? He’d seen their faces once, for real, and that hadn’t been a trick. The shades coming from Voldemort’s wand looked worried, concerned for him. And they’d helped him. Harry kicked a clod of dirt and it tumbled across the ground until it hit a fencepost and exploded. That was all he had of them -- besides a few pictures -- just two moments stolen from Voldemort and the dementors, nothing even close to real. And now here he was, in this place where they’d lived and loved and tried to keep him safe, but there was nothing left. With a jolt, he realized something that he’d always known but never really thought of. “They weren’t much older than me,” he said aloud to no one. He thought of his mother in Snape’s penseive, her red hair flying about her face and her voice shaking with anger at his father. She had been in her fifth year then. “They were younger than me,” he said, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. The picture in his mind blurred and changed, became more vivid, and he found himself thinking of Ginny. Smiling and laughing, teasing Ron in the common room and scoring the winning goal against Hufflepuff. What would it be like, he thought, to bring her home to a place like this? He pictured lifting her up and carrying her over the threshold of a little cottage. She would smile and she would kiss him, and it would be all theirs, just for the two of them-- A loud clatter sounded from behind him, and Ron’s voice cursed loudly. Harry set aside the thought for another day, and made his way toward what was left of the house. Ginny For the first time ever, boarding the train was not a happy event. Ginny said goodbye to her dad, tucked away her trunk, and sat staring out the window at the sparse, frightened groups of people on the platform. She felt adrift on a vast ocean, alone without a single brother to keep her company. No Percy, no Fred or George, not even Ron. Wrapping her robes more tightly around her body, she leaned back against the wall of the compartment. Ginny remembered clearly the first time she saw Harry, right in this very station. At the time, he had seemed like a knight in shining armor to her. The scar on his forehead was the mark of a fantastic achievement, his miraculous act that saved them all. He was tall and brave and beautiful to her eyes then. Ginny laughed bitterly at that, and her eyes burned. That little fantasy could not have been more wrong, then. He’d been nothing but a scared, scrawny boy, not even knowing how to get onto the platform. Real heroism was what he was doing now, she knew, but it wasn’t any romantic dream or a shining, painless achievement. No, it was messy and horrible and it hurt. Harry Curled in an uncomfortable armchair on the Knight Bus, Harry stared at the passing countryside without seeing it. It seemed like only days before that he and Ginny had sat together in the sunshine. The events that brought him from that moment to this seemed to fit together like a chain reaction in Fred and George's fireworks. It was as though time had been moving faster than usual since that horrible trip to the caves. The only moment that Harry could fix his mind on was that golden afternoon by the lake. He remembered Ginny laughing, her lips red from kissing. She lay back on the green grass, her bright hair spread around her head like a lion's mane. Harry leaned forward and touched her cheeks softly with his fingertips, tracing the constellations of freckles there. Her eyes met his and her laughter trailed off. For a moment, her eyes looked serious, and there was an emotion in them that he couldn’t name. The next moment, she reached up and cupped her hand around the back of his head, drawing him down into another kiss. Harry licked his lips reflexively, the memory fresh in his mind. He turned his head and rested it on the side of the armchair, drifting off to sleep to the rattle of the bus. Ginny Fr om her desk at the front corner of the Charms room, Ginny could just see the lake. It was why she sat there, in the seat no one else wanted. She could see a little bit of blue water and a patch of green grass next to it, and she liked to sit there and think of that day when she had first gone down to the lakeshore with Harry. She caught the snitch that day, swooped in and grabbed it and felt the tiny wings beating against her fingers as she sank to the ground and everyone cheered. There were red and gold pennants everywhere and people screaming her name and victory was like a sharp taste in her mouth. She was filled with the conviction of it, the drive, the passion, and when she'd seen Harry burst through the common room door, there was nothing left to hold her back from him, nothing to say stop or you shouldn't or he doesn't. They'd gone down to the lake afterwards, and talked and laughed and kissed and kissed and kissed until she could barely feel her lips. Harry counted her freckles and she rumpled his hair. She knew even then that it was a day to remember, a time that couldn't last. She'd stored it up and now she took it out a little bit at a time and savored it. Harry The warehouse was dusty and it echoed with the sounds of their voices. There was only one little window, and the sunlight through it tracked a path across the dirty floor as the day went on. It was a less-than-optimal headquarters, to be sure, but it also wouldn’t endanger anyone they knew, which had made up Harry’s mind. He sat awake as Ron and Hermione slept, with a big book propped open on his lap. The building creaked and settled around him. Moonlight shone weakly through the window and marked a square on the floor, but it was still much too dark to read. He could have lit his wand, but he sat in the dark a little while longer. What was Ginny doing now? She’d be sleeping, he supposed, in a bed with red velvet hangings. He could just picture her, face peaceful in sleep, brilliant hair spread across the pillow. Maybe the flowery smell of her perfume clung to the bedspread. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she would smile a little, in her sleep. Harry lit his wand with a quiet command and forced his attention back to ancient ways to break blood curses. He felt a little better. Ginny Ginny looked up from her books and rubbed her aching eyes. “Why do we have to do this, again?” she demanded. Luna merely blinked at her over the top of a pile of scrolls, her blue eyes looking especially bug-like in the low glow of the fire. “I don’t care about the bloody exam,” Ginny went on. “What does it even matter?” The last place she wanted to be in the entire world was the Gryffindor common room with a pile of boring books. “I’ll bet it matters to your parents,” Neville said quietly. “Just think how proud they’ll be when you break all the records and come out top of your class.” Ginny had to laugh at that. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but somehow I don’t expect that’ll happen.” She turned back to the books and her smile faded, but this time she gritted her teeth against the irritation and went on. This had to matter, it just had to. If it didn’t, it was because Harry lost and the Dark Lord won, and that just couldn’t-- “Of course it matters,” Luna said. “Just think of all the good we can do for the endangered Jubjub Bird populations.” Harry Things skittered and shuffled all around him but the forest was dark and thick, and Harry couldn’t see anything. He pushed on, only a small circle of wandlight to guide him. The heavy weight of Hufflepuff’s goblet bounced against his back as he walked, reminding him of its presence with every step he took. The ground was uneven, and Harry could see little of where he was going. He had to trust in the four-points spell to keep him going in the right direction, towards the little house on the outskirts of Hogsmeade where Ron and Hermione were waiting. He trudged up a hill and when he reached the top, he couldn’t breathe for a moment. Far away, beyond the edge of the forest, Hogwarts was shining like a beacon, windows glowing with warm firelight and ancient stones gleaming under the moon. Harry leaned back against the nearest tree and simply looked at the castle that had been his home for six years. Ginny was there, within his reach. All he had to do was turn a little to the left and he could be there by morning, could see her and kiss her and hold her in his arms. But it wouldn’t be safe for her. Chances were, she was being watched even now, by Death Eaters or their spies within the walls. Harry pushed his disappointment away. Keeping Ginny safe was more important than seeing her. “Point me,” he whispered, and the wand in his hand swung to the right, away from the castle. He turned and followed its direction. Ginny Ginny sat on the wide stone ledge of her window and looked out over the Forbidden Forest. It was forbidden in more ways than one, she knew. The air was crisp and clear, with a light wind blowing past the castle and ruffling the treetops. It was perfect flying weather. She could pull out her broom and fly away right then. She could be free, free of the castle, free to find Harry and be with him and join the fight. A breeze blew in through the window and around the room invitingly, and Ginny felt her pulse grow faster with wanting it. She sat still and watched as little eddies of dust swirled on the windowsill, and the breeze was gone again, leaving her behind. She sighed. No, she would not escape tonight. She would stay here, safe and secure and useless - like a child or a princess in a tower or a hostage. Outside, the war raged on more openly every day, her family stood in the face of incredible evil, and Harry fought the most important battle of his life -- all without her help. She rested her cheek against the cold stone wall and let the tears slide down her face until the forest became one big blur. |
| Reviews 3 |
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