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Category: Post-OotP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: General Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: G Reviews: 11 Summary: GInny spends part of the night in front of the fire, thinking. Hitcount: Story Total: 3971 |
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A/N: I don't own anything. Here's a short one shot that kept me awake one night while on vacation. It's not much but I hope you like it. Happy Reading! A.A. Ginny sat in the darkness of the Burrow. She watched wishfully as the flames licked greedily at the glowing legs. She sat unmoving, unknown, fixated by the flames. The rest of the Weasley family were upstairs in their respective bedrooms along with the one dark haired Weasley. Still staring blindly into the fire place, a small frown flashed over Ginny’s face at the thought of Harry. Or rather the person who came back from the muggle’s pretending to be Harry, because that person wasn’t the real Harry. He wasn’t HER Harry. Her Harry was a boy who walked around with the weight of the world on his shoulders, but never showed it. Her Harry didn’t let that stop him. Her Harry had emerald eyes that were so full of life that Ginny had always believed that nothing could ever change that. But just like so many times before, she was wrong. Just like the very fire she stared into, the flame within Harry’s eyes was dying. At first the flicker in Harry’s eyes was so faint that no one noticed, including Ginny. No one saw the pain and guilt that was eating away at his insides, causing him t o slowly collapse within himself. But one day she had noticed. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was she had noticed, but she knew something was different. Something that wasn’t quite right. Something that was cold. It was at that time that she noticed his withdrawal. It was slight at first, just like everything else, but Ginny still saw it. Ginny watched from a distance as Harry began to draw away from everyone. She watched silently as everyone went on with their lives while the boy-who-lived slowly drowned in his own personal hell. But she did nothing. She watched Hermione and Ron try then drift away from Harry, to caught up with each other to see how deep Harry’s torment went. Ginny knew that torture. She had faced it herself a number of years ago. Harry’s return to the Burrow two months after leaving Hogwarts for the summer had given Ginny a shock she wasn’t prepared for. During the school year, she had thought it best to let him fight his inner battles alone, as she had. She was fine now, or so she told herself. She had yet to fully recover from her first year at Hogwarts, but she was getting better, ever so slowly. She had thought the same would be true for Harry. She had thought that once he spent time away from the world that had hurt him so he would begin to heal. But that was not the case. Unlike her, Harry had folded in on himself more. The flame that had been dimmed the last time she saw him was gone. Completely dark. His eyes, the window Ginny used to see into him, were totally void. The laughter and light that had once danced wickedly through the green, was gone. And now as Ginny sat there in almost complete darkness she saw the flames of the once hearty fire die out until all that was left were smoldering ashes. Her stomach clenched with fear as the sight brought Harry’s eyes back to mind. How they had grown dimmer and dimmer. It now struck Ginny that soon, like the fire, Harry too would die. Maybe not physically, but internally. His soul. His spirit. His will. A chill ran through her, causing her whole body to quake. The fire light was now almost nonexistent. With the darkness came the unusual cold. Since the day of Harry’s arrival the weather had turned cold and the rain had set in. Ginny shivered again and pulled her knees closer to her body, still staring ahead in a daze. Her mind still focused on Harry and not what had brought her downstairs in the dead of night in the first place. Like so many times before, had woke up in a cold sweet. Her long hair will and clinging to her face, like the oversized shirt and blankets clung to her body. Ginny no longer remembered how her heart and mind had raced furiously when she had awakened from the dream that plagued her. Sitting in front of the extinguished fire, Ginny inadvertently allowed imaged to invade her mind. Ginny shuttered as her mind forced her to relive her night terror. She saw Harry running, sword in hand. Then she saw the basilisk following in pursuit. The next thing she saw was her lifeless body and Tom Riddle, who was standing over her. She watched Harry thrust the sword into the basilisk, killing it. But since her fourth year the scene that followed had plagued her relentlessly. As the basilisk fell, Ginny watched as Harry’s foot was knocked from beneath him and rather then fall back onto the ledge, Harry fell back into pure black. In her mind Ginny screamed our at Harry but no sound escaped her lips, her muscles refused to move and her eyes wouldn’t look away. She was trapped in her own mind, forced to watch as Harry fell and disappeared into the Black Veil. Ginny’s head shot up with a start. Her hair flew around her head wildly as she whipped her head from side to side, taking in the surroundings of the Burrow before allowing herself to breath. It was then that the fire place came to her attention. When she had slipped into her terror, the fire had burned down to nothing. Now large flames roared, toasting the air in the room and casting a hearty glow over the room. A faint clank echoed from the kitchen, bringing Ginny’s attention to the door. She began to draw her quilt tighter to her before realizing that she had not came downstairs with a quilt. She pulled the quilt up for closer inspection and found it to be the one she had pieced together when she was quite young. That realization drew questions in her head. She hadn’t seen that quilt in ages. Mrs. Weasley had put it away for safe keeping. And now here it was, slightly tattered in spots but still the same. The kitchen door opened, causing Ginny to jump. As the door was pushed open, Ginny could see the back of a person from the chest down. The person turned around after making it through the door revealing that they were carrying two steaming mugs. Finally the person’s head came into view, revealing them. Harry’s hair and clothing were rumpled, as was Ginny’s, but neither paid any mind. Wordlessly, Harry carefully set both mugs on the coffee table in front of Ginny and pulled the quilt aside. Ginny watched, not moving a muscle as Harry sat next to her and pulled the quilt over his body and hers. He then handed her an emerald green mug that Ginny found to be full of hot apple cider. In which she could also smell a hint of cinnamon. Once Ginny’s hands were closed tightly around the mug, Harry took his own and sunk back into the couch, his eyes reflecting the flames of the fire. This had occurred many night before. They would each fight their night terrors separately, then somehow they would end up meeting downstairs in front of the fire with mugs of hot apple cider with cinnamon. Neither ever talked, they simply sat together absorbing the warmth from the cider, flames and each other. This is the reason Ginny started when she heard Harry’s voice break the soft quiet. “Your mum always puts this quilt on my bed when I’m here. For some reason it has always made me feel better. Like I’m home. Like I’m loved,” he said while lightly fingering a small tear in the material. Ginny said nothing, but simply snuggled deeper into the warmth of the quilt and Harry. Then she realized that Harry covering her with the quilt meant there was hope. It made her realize the her Harry wasn’t completely gone, just battered and broken, afraid to face the world, buried within him. But there was still the hope that Harry would break through and over come everything that had hurt him. Sighing, Ginny took a sip from her mug. Both her and Harry falling back into their pattern of silently being comforted by the hot apple cider, the fire and each other. A/N: Here's another little story that is keeping me from completing Night Time. Hope you enjoyed! A.A. |
| Reviews 11 |
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