|
No Rest for the Weary | ||||
|
Category: Post-Hogwarts Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Fluff, Romance Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: G Reviews: 5 Summary: Yet another after the battle reunion fic. I know it’s been done, to death, but not by me, lol. So here’s my take on what might have happened but probably didn’t.... Hitcount: Story Total: 4022 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: This is my first ever fic, so be gentle guys. Or not. I'm a big girl, i can take it :) |
|
|||
|
Harry Potter made his way to Gryffindor tower thankful for the empty corridors, and clutching his invisibility cloak, ready to use it at a moment’s notice. He was in no mood for more after-the-battle niceties. Enough was enough. Harry Potter had a powerful need for sleep. The incredible sense of elation he had been filled with, and the satisfaction of finally getting the job done and being alive to tell the tale was steadily ebbing away, to be replaced by bone deep weariness. The events of the last year seemed to be catching up with him, and quickly. All he wanted now was a nice warm bed and the comfort of home. Thankfully, he was in the right place for it. Barely noticing that Gryffindor tower was remarkably unscathed from the destruction wrought by the battle and that the fat lady had wordlessly let him in once again, Harry made his way to the 7th year boy dormitory. The room he would have shared with his mates had Voldemort not turned the world on it’s head. He didn’t think Neville would mind Harry’s use of his bed for a few hours… Just a few hours… Enough to get rid of this terrible weariness that had suddenly overtaken him… Despite his tiredness, Harry could not get comfortable, lying there in the open, vulnerable to anyone wishing to come in. He finally gave up and mindlessly put up the protective enchantments that had become second nature to him these last couple months, and was out like a light. Harry Potter woke up disoriented. He wasn’t in the Gryffindor tower dormitory he had fallen asleep in, though he was in a rather familiar bed, in the Hogwarts infirmary. Rather than alleviate his weariness, his nap seemed to have added to it. He felt tired and weak, and hot, so hot that his hair was sticking to his forehead. And who were these twin blurs looking down at him? He tried to search for his glasses and groaned as he felt pain shoot through his body. That wasn’t good… “Don’t move Harry” said a voice Harry was pretty sure was Hermione’s. “Ron, where are his glasses?” As soon as he had been outfitted with his glasses and before he could fix a confused stare on his best friends, Hermione launched into irrepressible speech. “Oh we’ve been so worried! Harry, you’ve had a fever and been unresponsive all day! And we had a devil of a time getting to you because of your protective spells. What were you thinking? And they were so strong! We had to get Bill to take them down. And then we found you delirious with fever. Don’t ever do that again! I thought Mrs. Weasley was going to die, she was so worried!” Harry barely took all this in as her words filtered slowly through his wooly feeling head. But at her last words, Harry suddenly realized they weren’t alone. In fact, it seemed as if the whole Weasley contingent had come to find themselves at the foot of his bed. He caught the eyes of Molly Weasley, who was giving him a watery smile. “Oh Harry… you gave us such a scare. I’m so glad you woke up finally. We just wanted to check on you one last time before going to the Burrow to take care of things”. Realizing of what things she spoke, Harry wanted to apologize for Fred, but selfishly refrained. He didn’t want her to stop looking at him with that look of love and maternal affection. Guiltily, he looked away from her, and experienced another wave of dizziness as he moved his head… and caught sight of Ginny, sitting at the foot of his bed, and looking like a fiery angel, complete with that fierce look in her eyes. He suddenly forgot everything around him as his world once again narrowed to Ginny, and her fierce look, and how much she unknowingly helped him, and meant to him all those months he was away, especially when he thought he was dying. He was soon filled with the reckless and overpowering desire he usually felt when he was around Ginny- to be as close to her as possible, to touch her, hold her, to belong to her. This gave him the strength to hold out his hand to her despite his lethargy. “Ginny” he croaked. But he was too determined to feel any embarrassment at how much like a dying frog he sounded. “Hey Harry, how’re you feeling?” she asked as she displace a few family members to move closer to him and grabbed hold of his outstretched hand. Harry felt his answering grunt was a perfect description of how crappy he was feeling at the moment. Ginny smiled her bright smile “You’ll feel better once you’ve taken your potions and gotten more sleep. Your body can only go through so much before it rebels, you know.” Harry didn’t have the energy to tell her that her touch and presence were already making him feel better. He was feeling a sense of peace that he hadn’t felt since those last sunlit weeks of his sixth year, when she had proven to be his best source of comfort. As she was proving to be yet again. Without thinking, without stopping to worry about it or to ponder the advisability of having this conversation in front of her parents and brothers, Harry verbalized the feelings he'd become so sure of these many months away from her. “I love you so much, Ginny” Harry heard someone gasp and noticed movement around him, but could only focus on Ginny, who looked shocked, as if that was the very last thing she had expected him to say. But she smiled, even as tears filled her eyes. “Oh Harry, you know I love you too.” Harry refrained from telling her that he had known no such thing, even as he was filled with a sense of satisfaction that only increased his drowsiness. He was feeling content enough, basking in the light of her newly discovered love, to go back to sleep. “I missed you” Harry found himself admitting. This must be a day for confessions, he mused. “I missed you too babe” Ginny laughed. Amusement taking the place of the giddy relief she had been feeling at having Harry back relatively unscathed and still apparently, very much hers. “Everyday, every moment you were away”. Harry decided then that he was going to share with her how he had filled all those moments he was away from her and hoped she’d do the same with him. But that was a conversation for another day. Right now, he had to battle drowsiness to finish what he had started. There was a goal to reach, a prize to be had. With his way ahead clear of death and doom for the very first time in his life, Harry had a clear idea of what he wanted in his life. “No Veelas” he croaked sleepily “will you have me still?” The sun flamed brilliantly in Ginny’s hair as she threw her head back in mirth, remembering that last desperate encounter they’d shared in her room last summer. “Yes Harry, I’ll have you if you’ll have me” she finally replied, smiling against his hand. Finally happy and fulfilled, Harry gave into the slumber that had been calling him back since the moment he left it. By so doing, he missed the commotion he had caused by his words and actions. He missed Ginny giving in to tears of bittersweet joy and relief. How was it possible to feel such joy and grief at the same time? The joy of finally having him back by her side laced with the pain of not having Fred there to share in it, or more likely, to tease her for it. The relief of seeing that Harry would be okay after all the harrowing and uncertain previous hours. He missed Ron’s fidgeting and clearing of his throat, uncomfortable witnessing such an intimate moment between his best mate and his sister, wondering how many more such scenes he’ll have to bear through. He missed Molly’s sigh as she watched her daughter receive her heart’s desire. Ginny might have thought she had kept her heartsickness over the last year hidden from everyone, but she was an open book to her mother. Life would insist on going on, even in the middle of death. And finally, he missed Bill’s quizzical “Veela?” as he wondered how in the world he had missed little Ginny growing up… |
| Reviews 5 |
|
