InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I fell in hate with you"

Ginevra Molly Weasley (not_a_damsel) wrote in liberalis,
@ 2009-06-14 21:51:00

WHO: Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter.
WHAT: Falling asleep together.
WHERE: Ginny's flat.
WHEN: Thursday, June 26th, late night.
RATING: PG?
STATUS: Complete.

It wasn't unusual for the pair of them to be sleeping in the same bed; they tried to avoid it at Grimmauld, given Ron's tendency to make faces at them or even a comment, but with the tensions there had been lately in the trio, it wasn't out of the ordinary for Harry to spend the night at Ginny's flat. It was quiet there - always. All the enchantments that had been put on it by Bill, by Arthur, by Harry himself and even by countless others provided that it was safe and free from unexpected visitors, even most of those who would be friendly. And of course, the youngest Weasley redhead never minded for a second having him next to her as she fell asleep. And tonight was no exception.

Work had been a bit faster paced than usual - perhaps due to the absence of her regular boss in favor of Theodore Nott, but more likely it had just been an off day - and so when he had arrived, she was already splayed across the sofa in her living room, face buried in a pillow. Upon his opening the door, him being one of the few the charms didn't prohibit, she lifted her head, barely her eyes visible above the fringed edge of the cushion. It had been a half hour of idle conversation after he flopped down on the couch next to her, and it was obvious that the pair of them were exhausted. But then, when did Harry not seem exhausted nowadays? She had brushed the hair from his forehead, touched the side of his face as he closed his eyes, and sighed softly as if in resignation. Maybe someday he would have a break. They would have a break.

Idly, she had pulled herself to her feet, reaching a hand for his when he did the same and moving for the bedroom. His clothes hung in the closet or sat in one of her drawers, and the pair of them slipped into pajamas without a second thought, meeting one another beneath the blankets within a few minutes. The inevitable yawning - first from him before she followed suit - was worth a chuckle from both of them, but before long she was settled against him, eyes already drooping closed in the darkened room. Their contented sighs were just seconds apart, but there was no lingering on thought as the two of them fell perfectly sound asleep next to each other.

It wasn't two hours later when he screamed.

Removed instantly from her dreams, the brown eyes flew open, thoughts scrambling for a semblance of understanding. In an instant that seemed to defy the passing of time at all, her gaze found his form next to her, pulled away from her by a few inches and leaning forward, as if he had jerked upright in bed. Urgently, in a whisper, her voice found words - just one word - before she could even comprehend what must have occurred. "Harry?"

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not_a_posterboy
2009-06-15 12:31 am UTC (link)

So they'd started dating again less than a year ago, but what did that really matter? As soon as he'd figured out what that monster inside of him was growling about during school, Harry had known that feeling the same way about someone else like he did about Ginny would be a near impossible feat. It all had been a matter of opening his mouth and coming to an understanding that if he wanted to get the girl he couldn't just wait around any longer - no matter if he knew that Voldemort wasn't dead. And now here they were - just several months down the road from when he'd worked up the nerve to ask her out - engaged and acting more like they were already married than most couples did after dating for a year.

The conversation was easy, despite the fact that they were both obviously exhausted from their day - Ginny from work and Harry had just gotten back from Occlumency with Snape - and he knew that around her there was no impression to worry about making. He could be himself, guard down, not feel like he was being attacked or about to be. So they sat on the couch for awhile, his thoughts not wandering any further than her flat and everything inside of it; but mostly her. Harry was at complete peace with himself - especially after what had seemed like a remarkably successful Occlumency lesson - at least for the time being, but he liked to think that that wouldn't change at all for tonight. No fear over whether or not he'd be able to save the world from the darkest wizard of all time, no fear over the loss of loved ones; no fear. It was probably because of this state of mind that the nightmares that came to him the moment he drifted off to sleep, his fiancee at his side, caught him so very off guard.

There was darkness completely enveloping his surroundings. All he knew was that wherever he was it was crowded and people were running in the opposite direction that he was going. His dream was no different from what he would have done in real life, no, for he was going toward the danger, not fleeing from it like everyone else. Every so often there was a flash of dreadfully bright, green light and he'd see the faint silhouette of someone that he knew and cared for. First Ginny, then Ron, then Hermione, Neville, Sirius, Remus, the other Weasleys, Luna, Dean... It was a never ending trail of certain death, yet all he could do was run faster in the direction that the killing curse was being casted.

In reality he was soaked in sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead where his scar was burning dully, his t-shirt clinging to his torso and arms, and the only real movements was the heavy breathing and the clenching of his fists.

His dream worsened then, and suddenly he was no longer being pushed against from the crowd moving toward him. Nothing gave away the fact that he was completely alone with his enemy, it was simply something that he knew, something he could feel because it was a dream. Unlike in real life, Harry wasn't sweating or panting at all. In fact, there was no noise at all except for what seemed like the distant sound of a heart beating. But who's heart was it? It seemed as if he was suddenly in a very open, large warehouse or cavern - he couldn't tell, considering there was nothing but black surrounding him - and the sound of the heart was echoing off of the walls around him. The only feeling he was aware of having was that of fear, and it was with this realization that he was suddenly very sure that the heart beating so loudly was his own. Seconds after, there was another flash of green light and the sight of hundreds of lifeless forms on the ground around him was evident in that second of sight along with one tall, thin, black form directly in front of him... and then he felt nothing but pain.

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not_a_posterboy
2009-06-15 12:32 am UTC (link)

Sitting upright in the bed, his sweaty palms unfolded from the clenched fists that they were in prior to awakening and he placed one to his slick forehead. Not aware that he had just screamed out, Harry was completely focused on the burning sensation radiating in his head. The lightning bolt shaped scar that his hand was pressed so tightly against felt nearly hot to the touch, and a few seconds later he came to the realization that there were stinging tears streaking down his cheeks. Not registering Ginny's voice at all, the only thing he could think about were all of the corpses that had surrounded him only seconds before their greatest enemy had taken his life as well.

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not_a_damsel
2009-06-15 12:54 am UTC (link)

As the sleep rushed away from her, as sure as her waking was after hearing his scream, the sound of his panting reached her ears. An alarm to offset the already prickling goosebumps on her forearms. In the seconds that felt like hours, she watched him there, his hand pressed so firmly to his forehead, as if he were holding it together where the scar was; as if the nightmare, whatever the dream had been, was rending him in half. She wasn't a complete stranger to the nightmares: there had been some before, but none so terrifying real that he hadn't heard her voice afterward. None so vivid that he'd lost himself to them. And as much as she might never admit it, might always do her best to be the fearless girl who belonged at his side, the terror shook her.

In another moment that couldn't pass fast enough, she was sitting up next to him, fingers outstretched until they reached the arm of the hand pressed to his forehead. Already she could feel the fear radiating from him, knew that he had been struggling in his sleep for most of the time they had been lying there next to each other and she hadn't woken. His heavy breathing was enough to alert her to the fact that he was terrified if not his inability to hear her; red hair a heavy curtain over her shoulders, it was a curtain around them, both hands searching blindly for his in the darkness of the room. This time it was an urgent whisper, his name on her tongue, still the only thing she could think of in those first few moments.

His free hand she found easily, holding it tightly between her little fingers; it was the other that was lost in the darkness, her hand tracing up his wrist only to find it clutched to his forehead. Leaning forward, leaning against him, her mouth parted as she found words. Softly, strong a voice as ever, "open your eyes, Harry."

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not_a_posterboy
2009-06-15 01:06 am UTC (link)

Hours later it was a sure fact that thousands of thoughts would be crossing his mind. He'd be wondering what caused the nightmare; if he'd let his guard down so much that Voldemort really had been inside of his head or if it was just another one of his dreams that had occurred so many times in his relatively short life. He would wonder if he should tell Snape about it - or anyone for that matter - or if it should just stay between him and Ginny forevermore. Right now, though? Right now his mind could go no further than where it was focused on the repeating, reappearing image of Lord Voldemort's silhouette in front of him, and then the green flash. That same green flash that he'd dreamed about countless times before he ever knew that he was a wizard; before he ever knew that he was destined to either kill the Dark Lord or die trying. The same green flash that had taken so many lives... so many innocent lives.

Her hand on his skin didn't return him to reality, nor did the sound of his own name coming from her lips for the second time. Tears slipping from his chin and falling to his lap, it was the sound of her voice telling him to open his eyes that snapped him out of it; brought him back to her bedroom where it was just them, and they were safe. Emerald eyes opened abruptly, though he didn't mean for them to, and he stared straight ahead before the image of the bodies reappeared to him once more and it was made very clear to him that he wouldn't be escaping this nightmare even in the happiest of locations or situations. A shuddering sigh escaped his lips first, his torso shaking violently as he realized that he was barely breathing since the several moments before where he'd been panting, and that was followed by a sob.

Suddenly very aware of her hand on his that was still clutched to his forehead, the sobs became louder and more frequent as the immensity of his fear hit him. The pain surging through his head worsened as he cried, but he felt that if he were to stop he would surely explode. Silence filled the room, all except for his pained sobs.

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not_a_damsel
2009-06-15 01:19 am UTC (link)

Hours from now, who knew what she would be thinking? More than likely, as often as ever, she'd be watching him, wondering how he survived. Wondering how he made it through every day with as much pressure as was put on him; wondering if it came to him at random moments during the day. Wondering in the most awful way if the nightmares found him even when they were together. Maybe she never knew every detail: he would never give her every detail, she knew that much. He would never want her haunted by the same images he was on a daily basis, by the same fears, but she shared them anyway.

There was no uncertainty in her voice or her touch as she tried to bring him back, using his name, using her hands, using everything. She knew he would be back to her, and it was all she could give him, her confidence. When his eyes flew open, she stopped, held still just long enough for the shuddering sigh. And then, without a second thought or a second pause, she held him there, between her and nothing. It was these moments which gave her cause to wonder when it hit him; how he made it through the day without a breakdown, for surely she couldn't do it. Surely Ronald the almighty couldn't do it. None of them could - he was stronger than anyone should have ever asked him to be.

Small though she was compared to him, compared to anyone really, she took his hands in hers and pulled him against her as he cried, brown eyes watching his emerald without a semblance of fear. But that didn't make her strong; the fact that she was able to sit there and not cry and not fear for their lives at that moment, it didn't give her anything. He was the one surviving it all, more than anyone else ever could have. Pressing her cheek against his shoulder, she just murmured, "We're all right, Harry." and gripped his hands all the tighter. "We're all right."

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not_a_posterboy
2009-06-15 01:32 am UTC (link)

Surely there were thousands of other people out there that would have been able to deal with this better; that would always be his argument when people brought up how strong he must have to be to go through what he had so far, and what he still did. He wasn't anything special, that's what he would tell them, that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and what did he have to show for it? No family, a scar, and the fate of the wizarding world on his shoulders. Of course he would never tell them that that's what he had to show for it, because he'd be reminded a hundred times over of everything that he did have, but they didn't understand. Even as a thought it barely crossed his mind, and when it did he pushed it out as soon as it came around. He would bear this weight because he had to, because while he'd lost so much already, he couldn't stand to lose anymore.

Sobs now convulsing throughout his entire body, it was Ginny that he used for his strength. It took her pulling him against her small frame, but there was no restraint, no holding back from taking that gesture of comfort from her. Their foreheads were much closer now, his hand the only thing separating their skin from touching, and it was without much thought that he let his hand drop from where it had been resting against his scar for the past few minutes. What she said was true, he knew, but how long would it be? How long did they have before this war was upon them? How long did they have before his darkest nightmares became a reality? How long did he have before he would face off for the final time against Tom Riddle? He didn't know the answer to any of it, and for a moment in time he just let his strength go; not just an ounce of it or most, but all of it.

Eyes overflowing with tears, the green hue of them wasn't visible with his back to the only light source coming from the window on the wall next to the bed. We're all right, Harry. We're all right. Over and over again in his head, the words clashing incredibly with the picture of bodies - hers amongst them - still imprinted into his mind. At that moment in time The Boy Who Lived lost his faith in himself, and let himself go against the only person he did have faith in.

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not_a_damsel
2009-06-15 01:43 am UTC (link)

And that was the reason she never did; the reason no one ever did. Not those who were serious, at least, not those who actually knew him. There had been criticism: they both knew it, heard it, read it in the papers when there was a need for a headline. It was easy to blame the hero for not doing his job; not so easy to be the hero in the story, much less a story you never wanted. No matter what she would or could say to him about how strong he had been, how brave he had been in the face of dangers that no one else could ever imagine. No matter how much he insisted that others could do it better, even that anyone else could have done it better, it didn't matter. It wasn't true. He was the one who had saved them all, but most of all, had saved her - her first year at Hogwarts might have been the first time, but it hadn't been the last. He saved her every day.

She could do that for him. For all the times he had saved her, the first or every time afterward. For all the times he had put himself on the line to save others. For all the times he had watched over Ron or Hermione, for the time his dreams - awful as they were - had saved her father, for everything he had ever done, she could be the strong one for once. Maybe she couldn't do what he had done over so many years, she knew she couldn't, but she could do this. She could hold him forever if he needed it.

As his hand fell from his forehead, she caught it in her own, holding him by his hands and bracing him against her; her cheek pressed against his, her shoulder waiting for his head to find its place against it as he sobbed. He could cry until the end of time and there was no chance in hell that she would move an inch. She could be the strong one this time; and so when he let go of his strength, let go of any faith in himself, she was there to pick it up again. She had strength for him. She had faith in him, now and forever.

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not_a_posterboy
2009-06-15 02:04 am UTC (link)

Much less a story you never could have been or could be ready for. Stories had endings, and as much as his faith had become deceased within a matter of minutes just now, Harry would never once think of running away from the inevitable ending. Despite what everyone said about him behind his back, - recently and during school - what they threw in his face, and what they tried to bring him down with... he'd fight Voldemort in the end with a hope in his heart to save all of their lives. While his mind was so far from the state it was normally in, deep down he would always know that he'd go forward with it all; that he'd fight for an ending to this real life nightmare that was consuming their world once again.

Right now though, as he broke down against the youngest Weasley sibling, he didn't have the strength or the willpower to search for that last glimmer of hope that he held onto from a day to day basis. All he could do was cry, and as each sob erupted from his body, each of them feeling heavier and louder than the one before, Harry could feel himself slowly weakening physically. Occlumency had never been something that had been easy for him, and while he'd been improving recently, even that small hint of increased power to fend Snape off from his mind had worn him out. The adrenaline rush that had hit him in full force after he'd awoken from the dream began to dim, and just as his cheek brushed against Ginny's and his forehead fell to rest on her shoulder, Harry felt like he could very well pass out.

Mind not functioning quite as quickly as it normally would have been, there was no thought crossing it about where the sudden exhaustion was coming from. His nightmares always left him feeling as if he hadn't slept at all, but the reoccurring image simply wouldn't leave his thoughts and no matter how unprepared he was for it, the Gryffindor knew that he would live the same nightmare repeatedly for the rest of the night. His body shaking against hers as the sobs continued, though now they were slowly becoming weaker and weaker - though it wasn't because the fear or pain was lessening, but because his body was losing it's own hope and was giving up on trying to keep him conscious - Harry closed his fingers around Ginny's hand as tightly as he could manage in that instance, and then it was back into the blackness, though this time the figure and flash never returned. Just a hero in a pit of darkness, alone, defeated, and lacking the strength to carry on.

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