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Private Moments | ||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Fluff Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 4 Summary: A series of private moments for the characters of the CARPE DIEM Universe X-mas 1999 Hitcount: Story Total: 3339 |
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By Robert An outtake to Imogen’s Home Is Where The Heart Is based on events from INVICTUS, Alpha & Omega, Home is Where the Heart Is and other bits. He stood in the doorway looking down at the sleeping form of his baby daughter. Hope, both her name and yet something more; something Harry couldn’t quite put a finger on;, but which he knew was very important to both him and Ginny. He marveled again at the angelic face of his daughter, so much like her mother, and yet a part of him as well. Harry wondered what dreams were racing through her mind and he prayed that she would never suffer the nightmares that had plagued him for years. He no longer tossed and turned at night, waking intermittently to find Ginny watching over him, her chocolate-brown eyes filled with concern for the man she loved with all her heart, he’d learned to suppress that enough to keep his suffering from disturbing her sleep. Still, there were nights when the nightmares of Voldemort and Son Tey would rouse him and he would slip silently from their bed and go to stand in the doorway of Hope’s room, letting the sight of the sleeping child; their daughter; help sooth his jangled nerves. He knew that someday he’d need to speak to Ginny about what had happened but, as yet, he couldn’t. ******** Ginny awoke to find Harry gone. She’d rolled over, expecting to snuggle against the warmth of her husband’s body, only to discover him gone and the spot where he should have been cool to the touch. In the beginning, it had frightened her to awaken and find Harry gone from their bed, especially when they had still been living at The Burrow following Voldemort’s defeat, but after the first few times, she’d come to realize that this was simply another way that he sought to hide his demons from her. She knew about the nightmares, both the ones from his sixth year when he’d gone missing for 24 hours and the ones from the final battle with Voldemort in the Hogwarts hospital wing. She’d nearly lost him both times, but somehow their love had endured, becoming even stronger in the process. Still, she knew that Harry wrestled nightly with his demons even as he tried to project an image of calm so as not to worry her. She wondered if he would ever tell her what had really happened when Voldemort had captured him, and then sighed in resignation as she realized that it was ridiculous for her to expect Harry to open up when she was unwilling to talk about things herself. As she lay there wondering how long Harry had been gone, her mind turned to thoughts of her mum and dad at The Burrow, of Sirius and Remus at Hogwarts, of her brothers scattered everywhere, but who would all be at The Burrow tomorrow afternoon for a Christmas feast. Then she stopped and remembered that Bill wouldn’t be there and the familiar dull ache returned to her stomach as the pain of his death nearly three years ago came back to her again. He’d never seen Hope, and it hurt to realize that he never would. As the tears rolled down her cheek, Ginny forced herself to turn away from thinking of Bill. It would never do for Harry to come back and find her upset. It was hard enough hiding the panic attacks which occasionally would engulf her when someone or something would remind her of that terrifying nothingness she’d been in while unconscious after Voldemort had tried to kill her at the end of her fifth year. She instead smiled to herself at the thought of Ron and Hermione together this night. Even though they’d been dating for almost five years, and lovers for three, this was the first night they’d actually spent together with the knowledge and consent of their respective parents. Well, the consent of Hermione’s parents at least. Ginny shook her head at the memory of her mother’s reaction to the news that Ron wouldn’t be staying at The Burrow tonight. She hoped that it went well for them, and then sighed at the unfairness of it all; her brother and his girlfriend were snuggled up warmly in bed while she waited for Harry to come back from his vigil. And with that thought in mind, Ginny arose and made her way down the hall to where she knew she would find her husband. ********** Ron lay in bed staring at the ceiling and again marveled at how lucky he truly was. It was somewhat of a miracle that he was even here tonight, asleep in Hermione’s bed. His mother had been none too pleased when he’d informed her that he was staying at Hermione’s tonight and that they would be joining her parents for Christmas morning before coming to The Burrow later that day. His mother had raised an eyebrow at this news and then asked, in what Ron recognized as a deceptively calm tone, if he wouldn’t rather sleep in his nice soft bed rather than on Hermione’s couch. Ron had watched as Ginny had covered her mouth to stifle the giggle threatening to break free as he, red-faced but resolute, had replied that he wouldn’t be sleeping on the couch tonight. Then, before Molly could react, he’d hurriedly kissed his mum on the cheek, said goodbye, and Apparated to Hermione’s flat. Hermione had giggled slightly, and told him how brave he’d been as she kissed him on the cheek before returning to help her mother in the kitchen with dinner. He’d been left at the tender mercies of her father, who’d smiled knowingly before hauling out the chessboard. He still didn’t really understand why Hermione loved him. He wasn’t the bravest of blokes, nor the handsomest. He didn’t have money or power or a lot of material things. When he came right down to it, he wasn’t very special in any way. He was just…well…Ron. Still, looking down at the sea of brown curls nestled against him, Ron knew he wouldn’t trade what he had for anything in the world. Tilting his head slightly, he lightly kissed the crown of her head and whispered, “I love you, Hermione.” ********** Even as her mind started to slip over the edge of consciousness into sleep, Hermione heard the words and, in an instant, felt as though she was flying on the clouds themselves. True, she knew that Ron loved her, and that he had for a long time. Still, she recalled how; not that long ago; that she and Ron had struggled to reconnect after the final battle with Voldemort and how a night of baby-minding for Harry and Ginny had changed that. She recalled the night Ron had nearly died their sixth year and how she’d admitted to him, even though he was unconscious at the time, that he was the only one for her. She sighed slightly at the memory of trying to sleep with him that night and hoped he wouldn’t thrash about as much this time; it would not be good manners to hex him on Christmas Eve. In her mind’s eye, she could still see his worried face; taut with strain, his eyes filled with a pain that touched her soul; looking down upon her when she’d first reawakened after their rescue from under the debris of Hogwarts. His first words then had been, “I thought I’d lost you forever, Hermione,” even as he gently laid his hand against her cheek. In spite of her still slightly befuddled state, she’d instinctively known in that instant that she would all right. Tall, muscular, and still Quidditch-obsessed, Ron wasn’t perfect by any means. But, for all his faults; and her boyfriend had a few; Hermione knew he was a good man at heart and that was all that truly mattered. She wrapped her arms a little tighter around Ron’s chest, snuggled a little closer, and allowed the steady beat of his heart to lull her off to sleep as she wondered how Arthur and Molly were doing now that all the children were gone. ********* It had taken some time for Molly to calm down after Ron’s abrupt and strategic withdrawal. Arthur and Ginny had exchanged knowing glances and simultaneous shrugs of acceptance as Molly had given full vent to her feelings about Ron actually “sleeping” over at Hermione’s. Still, when it was all said and done, Molly had come to the realization that her last baby was really gone. Arthur knew it had been hard enough on her when Dumbledore had approached them about Ginny marrying Harry. Although Molly had put a good face on it, privately, she’d ranted and raved for weeks about the injustice of it all before accepting that the young couple truly loved each other. It had taken Arthur reminding Molly of the events of the previous spring before she finally realized that it was truly something meant to be. They didn’t know most of the story, and probably never would, but clearly something special existed between their daughter and Harry for their love to have survived what he and Molly had witnessed that morning. Privately, though, Arthur had been rather grateful for Ron’s absence tonight as it afforded him the perfect opportunity to do something he’d wanted to do for weeks. After Bill’s death at The Massacre, as the failed counterattack against Voldemort had become known as, Molly had been nearly inconsolable when Clarke and Charlie had arrived to tell them of their son’s death. It wasn’t that Molly couldn’t accept that he was gone; she’d lost family during the first war; but rather the fact that they had no body to mourn or bury, for none of the bodies of those killed or known to have been captured had ever been found. She’d refused to let the others see it the previous year, but privately, in the security of their bedroom, Molly had cried her heart out and it had nearly broken Arthur’s, because there was nothing he could do about it. He’d resolved then that this year it would be different. After he and Molly had eaten, Arthur had suggested they go for a walk down by the riverside as he had something he wanted to show her. Reluctantly, Molly had agreed and together they had walked slowly down to the tree where their children loved to play and then beyond it to a spot of open ground that Molly knew Bill had always liked to come to when he needed time alone. Reaching the spot, Arthur stopped and pointed at a small English oak, which now occupied the center of Bill’s haven. “We may not have a body, Molly, but there is no reason for us not to have a special place to remember our son. I planted this tree last summer as a gift to you, so that you will always have a place to come and remember Bill.” Molly had said nothing, her eyes bright with tears as she slowly walked forward and gently ran a hand down the trunk of the young sapling before she dropped to her knees, and he had rushed forward to take her in his arms and give her back all the strength she’d ever given him. It had been some time before they’d returned to the house, and now, as he sat snuggled with Molly under the duvet before the fire, Arthur silently thanked the powers above that this Christmas Eve would be spent with just his wife. For the first time in over thirty years, there would be no children running underfoot, no explosions from the twins’ room, no extra houseguests, no friends to worry about. It seemed almost sacrilegious for The Burrow to be so empty and yet, as he felt the steady rhythm of Molly’s breathing as she slept wrapped in his arms on the sofa, it also seemed some how…right. *********** The two men sat silently before the fire, staring at the dancing flames, each lost in his own thoughts this Christmas Eve. Finally, Remus broke the silence. “Is it your turn or mine, Padfoot?” “I believe it’s mine, Moony.” And with that, Sirius picked up his glass of Firewhiskey and made the toast which had become traditional at such moments for the two old Marauders. “To absent friends and comrades.” ******** “To absent friends and comrades.” The words had echoed slightly in the room as John Clarke emptied the shot glass of Jim Beam as he toasted the picture he’d placed on the mantle. It was a wizard photo of him and several others taken the morning of the assault on Voldemort. He’d volunteered, even though he had only his .45 as a weapon, because he knew better than most what to expect and recognized that they’d need all the help they could get. Even so, all his experience had never prepared him for the disaster which had unfolded. It had been a trap, and they’d walked right into it. A third of the force had died immediately under a hail of Killing Curses as soon as they Apparated into the battle zone and half the rest had been killed or captured in the desperate struggle to escape. Only the herculean efforts of Bill Weasley, and a few others, had enabled the survivors to circumvent Voldemort’s anti-Apparation wards and escape. Clarke and Charlie Weasley had been among the last to flee by Portkey after a futile attempt to retrieve Bill’s body after he’d been struck down by a curse from a Death Eater who’d penetrated the shrinking defensive perimeter. Still, he thought grimly, the bastard who’s sold them out hadn’t profited by it. It had taken several weeks to find him, but in the end, Charlie and the twins had located his hiding place and captured him. Clarke could still envision the man’s terrified face as he pleaded, begged, and even tried to bribe his way to freedom, before the disgusted Marine had personally executed him. It was the first time he’d ever killed in cold blood, but, after what had happened to his friends, Clarke knew he’d lose no sleep over it -- and hadn’t. Setting the glass down, Clarke walked over to his desk and silently reviewed the materials which had been delivered earlier that week. The first batch had arrived by FedEx, and contained the legal papers necessary for him to assume ownership of Puller’s Place, now that Brickard had finally succumbed to the cancer that had eaten away at his insides for the past year. The second, thicker, stack had been delivered by private courier from an old friend at Langley. He’d had to call in several favours to obtain them, but it had been worth it. Snake had sent him not only the Agency’s file on Son Tey but also files from British MI5, France’s DGSE, Israel’s MOSSAD and several other foreign intelligence services, including the old KGB and its successor, the FSB. Combined with the Ministry of Magic’s report, which Moody had somehow managed to obtain and forward to him, the pile was almost a foot thick. It had taken him the better part of two days to go over them, and it had not made for pleasant reading. Harry had been very lucky to survive his encounter with Son Tey. The man had a well-deserved reputation as a ruthless and efficient master of torture who inevitably left only corpses to mark his passage. In fact, if what Clarke had read was true, then Harry was the only living survivor of Son Tey’s work, and thus the one man who could testify against him in court, Muggle or Wizard. “Except, he won’t live to stand trial if I have anything to say about it.” Now, having faxed some instructions to a trusted friend in London, Clarke closed the folder in his hand, sat back, and stared at the pen next to the legal documents before him. Then, recognizing that he was just postponing the inevitable, Clarke picked up the pen and signed his name with a bold flourish, thus becoming the new owner of Puller’s. As he finished placing the legal papers in the envelope to be FedEx’d to the solicitor in London the next morning, Clarke thought to himself, “The good part is that this will give me the means to keep my promise.” Then, he rose and walked over to the mantel and looked again at the picture of him and Bill Weasley. “Son Tey can run, but he can’t hide forever. Sooner or later, Bill, I will track him down and see that he pays for what he’s done.” The picture of Bill simply smiled grimly back and nodded in agreement. ********* As he stood there, Harry felt a pair of small hands wrap themselves around his waist as a slim body pressed against his back, the beat of her heart steady and comforting through his thin t-shirt. “Harry?” He could hear the gentle concern in her voice as he turned to face Ginny in the dim light of the hall. Placing a finger to her lips, he said softly, “Shh! It’s nothing, dear. I just wanted to check on Hope.” He could see the smile drift across her face as she glanced around him and peeked at their daughter asleep in her bed. Looking back up at Harry, she whispered, “Do you think she’ll appreciate her presents tomorrow?” Harry shook his head and smiled ruefully as he lightly ran a finger down the center of his wife’s back, causing her to shiver ever-so-slightly at his touch. “Probably not. She’ll disappear under the paper and spend hours playing with the boxes and ignore all the neat things we spent days agonizing over.” Ginny grinned at this pronouncement as she started to lead Harry back to their bedroom, then glanced up at him with a slight gleam in her eye before adopting a coquettish look as she asked, “And what about you, Harry? Will you appreciate all of your presents tomorrow?” Pulling her close, so he could feel her heart beginning to beat faster, Harry replied, “I already have my present, dear. Now, what say we find a nice soft comforter then go downstairs and snuggle in front of the fire?” Ginny grinned at the memory of a magical night long ago. “Like we did that night at The Burrow?” Harry smiled, “Yes, only this time, I won’t have to worry about your father catching us cuddled together like then.” Ginny’s eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth in surprise at this revelation. “My father…caught us?” Harry nodded. “Mm huh. Scared the life out of me too when he woke me up. Made it seem your mum was about to come downstairs and I was terrified at the prospect of having her find you and I asleep on the couch together.” Ginny started to giggle at the expression on Harry’s face as he told her this, and then she said, “So that’s why Dad kept giving me funny looks all morning. I honestly thought I had something on my face for half the day.” Harry reached up and lightly brushed his thumb over her lips to silence her as he whispered, “Enough talk of the past, Ginny. Let’s go enjoy the peace of Christmas morning while it lasts.” Then, taking her hand, Harry led a suddenly blushing Ginny downstairs so they could make some new memories to add to the old ones. A/N: Although this is a stand alone outtake, this piece will serve as the jumping off point for the sequel to INVICTUS, tentatively entitled, ILL MET BY MOONLIGHT. My thanks to Sherry for a wonderful beta job. As usual, she helps me find my way to the end of the tunnel. |
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