This story was first uploaded in 2008 under my old penname Leonheart666. I've started a new penname, and wish to include this, and a couple of other stories that I worked on in that time, into my new portfolio. This story is mine, and re-uploaded with permission from the site's admin team. The original story was beta read by Ginny Guerra, and has undergone minor changes since its first upload.
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Category: Pre-OotP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance, Tragedy Warnings: Disturbing Imagery Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 5 Summary: In the most dire of circumstances, your mind gives you someone to talk to in order to numb the pain Hitcount: Story Total: 3192 Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or any of its characters. That right goes to J.K. Rowling. I'm simply playing in her world Author's Notes: |
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The huge bell in the tower of Hogwarts castle rang unnecessarily loud through the deserted halls. The bell normally signalled the end of lessons, and would be greeted by the slowly crescendo of kids voices as they left their lessons and began conversations of little importance, like who was dating whom, or whether they should leave their homework for another night. Not today. Today, the halls were empty, desolate as though all life had been sucked out of them. No pupil emerged from a class, eager to get to dinner. Nobody stirred throughout any corridor. Normally, this would tell of the few weeks where the castle was almost completely empty in the summer, save a few straggling teachers who had claimed the building as their own homes. Today was well within the school time however, as exams hadn’t even started yet, let alone finished. It wasn’t even because everybody was outside, watching an important Quidditch game, perhaps the final to decide which house would be taking home the cup, and possibly which team could bring the house cup to their head’s office as well. No, the Quidditch pitch had no life, and the rain that was falling from the sky found no skin in the whole grounds. No, life had been confined to certain parts of the castle today. The announcement earlier had sent every student to their respective dormitories, where they sat in near silence, like a gathering at a funeral, silently supporting each other through the night. In a corner of one common room, a set of twins sat, with their heads together over an old, battered piece of parchment, muttering softly to each other, tears streaking down their faces. The parchment had a series of complex etchings scattered across it, and clusters of dots around the castle. But as the twins eyes roamed across the paper, their brows furrowed. After looking at this map so many times, it was clear to them that four dots were missing from it. Harry Potter dropped to his knees with a splash. The water he’d landed in stained blood red on impact, but he didn’t bother to notice. Around him, a series of different artefacts that would have looked misplaced in the oddest of rooms: a silver sword, the carcass of a thirty foot snake, an old hat and a black diary with a fang piercing its middle. But none of this caught Harry’s attention. No, he was focussed on the final object in the room, inches away from his knees. A young girl’s face, pale as death, her red hair splayed out behind her head in stark contrast with her white skin. Her robes were tattered, and blood seeped through the cuts that covered her minute body: deep gashes that gave the impression of some ferocious beast had laid into her. Harry had no idea where these cuts had come from; they had already been there when he arrived. Sick images crossed his mind of what the girl may have been put through down in this chamber. An innocent girl, robbed of any defence she had left, being punished by a boy five years her advance; his hand raising and brushing down her cheek softly, wiping away any tears she had let out, perhaps steadying her head as the boy leant in and pressed his lips to hers… No! Harry shook his head to clear his mind, but the sick thought of Tom Riddle forcing her into whatever disgusting fantasies he wanted to, and this eleven year old girl being able to do nothing to stop it, except scream for someone who wasn’t going to come in time. “Ginny,” Harry said softly, placing his hands on her shoulders and gently raising her off the floor, cradling her head in his lap. She can’t be dead; not Ginny. She’s stronger than that! Why didn’t I get here sooner? Why didn’t I destroy that damn diary when I had it in my hands? It was here! Right where her head is now! Ginny! “Ginny, please wake up. Please don’t die.” Harry’s hand stroked her face softly, wiping away a small tickle of blood from a cut above her left eye. I’m sorry, Ginny. I’m sorry I didn’t get here fast enough. I’m sorry you had to go through this. What did he do you to? He hurt you, didn’t he? He did all this to you. What else did he do? Oh God, please let him have had some bit of mercy. He ran his grimy hand through his own hair to pull it away from his eyes. It stuck, spiked haphazardly, on top of his head, held in place by the sweat of battle that coated it. Lord Voldemort never had mercy did he? No, he’s never shown mercy before, why would he to Ginny? Oh, Ginny, I’m so sorry. Harry’s head dropped, losing all hope. He began to weep. He began to weep for the girl that lay, clearly dead in his arms. He wept for what could have happened to her before she died, how she died, battered and bruised, scarred and used. As Harry squinted through the tears, he noticed the face was barely touched, save some very shallow cuts. Reaching for his wand, he cleaned the wounds carefully, leaving them as small blemishes on her skin. “You look so pretty, Ginny. You could have been so beautiful,” Harry said softly, a small smile playing over his lips as he removed a strand of hair that was loose over her forehead. “Come on Ginny, wake up,” Harry pleaded, one last attempt. He shook her shoulders gently, “Don’t leave me here. Don’t let all this be a waste. Don’t make me have to face Ron knowing that I can’t tell him good news. He’s back there, clearing a hole in the rubble big enough for his little sister and his best mate to fit through. Not just me, Ginny, not just me.” Harry gave up and dropped his head onto her chest, crying hard, letting all of his emotions loose. His hands gripped on to her tightly as she lay lifeless in his arms. It took a long time for Harry to regain his composure. Eventually, his crying slowed; he had cried himself dry. “I guess I’ve got to get you back haven’t I? At least I can do this for you.” Gently, he tucked his arm under her legs, and the other under her head and tried to stand, but his legs gave out before he reached full height and he toppled, barely managing to keep Ginny from hitting the ground hard. Harry sat back on the floor and screamed to the ceiling in frustration. But he was too exhausted. His voice died after just a few seconds. Harry sat himself behind Ginny’s head, lifting it and placing it in his lap once more, and began rhythmically stroking her hair. “You know, I start thinking sometimes that this isn’t happening,” Harry said after a time, “that it’s all some elaborate dream, and someday I’ll wake up and I’ll be staring at a huge spider in my cupboard. That Hogwarts never existed, and that I’d never met Ron, or Hermione, or… you.” Would that be better? Would not knowing all this make things better? He looked up at the ceiling, barely seeing it as a fresh wave of tears began running down his cheeks, cutting a clean path through the dirt. Perhaps it would. Perhaps I’d be better off if my parents had died in a car crash after all. No mass murderer’s after you, killing your friends, destroying everything you love, taking it all away and laughing. “It’s real isn’t it?” Harry said softly, looking down at the girl laying in his arms still. He didn’t know how long he had been there for anymore. He’d lost track a long time ago. He didn’t even know how long it had been since his attempt at standing with her. He shifted slightly, before stopping dead when he felt movement that wasn’t him. “Ginny?” he said, uncertain as to if he had imagined it. Maybe he had been there too long. Nothing. No movement at all. He began to think that he’d imagined it, and started to move again, when he felt it again, and Ginny’s head turned in his lap “Ginny!” he shouted, startling himself. “Ginny, wake up! It’s Harry, I’m here, please wake up, Ginny!” Harry shook Ginny’s shoulders slightly, and she gave a small murmur of recognition. Harry’s heart leapt as slowly, her eyes opened, revealing the most beautiful chocolate brown that he had ever seen. “Ginny!” Harry said, his mouth dropping open in amazement. And he started to laugh. He laughed harder than he had ever laughed before. He laughed more than hearing of the twins pranks, more than he’d ever done with Ron or Hermione. Relief flooded from his voice as he lost control. “Harry?” Her voice was weak, almost non-existent, but it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. He felt her start to shift, and helped her into a sitting position, watching as she struggled to get her balance, even with his support. Gently, he brushed a hand across her face, and she blushed a deep crimson. “You’re so beautiful, Ginny,” Harry said, his eyes capturing hers and holding them. Then he embraced her, pulling her tight against his body and tangling his fingers in her hair, eliciting a soft “oh” of surprise. Slowly, he laid a lingering kiss on to her crown. A/N: I hope you enjoyed my interpretation of the Chamber scene, with the added benefit of not writing a children's book. It should be noted that this story originally started as a songfic, to Evanescence's "Hello", which it was originally uploaded as. I removed the lyrics so that the story flows better, and I much prefer it, so I'll now say the song is an inspiration for the work. |
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