Ginny Weasley Potter (gunpwdr_treason) wrote in whatprice, @ 2009-07-26 02:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | dean thomas, ginny weasley |
Ginny/Dean, Bedtime Stories
Who: Ginny Weasley and Dean Thomas
What: A late-night chat
When: Tuesday, 13 July
Where: The former Fawcett-Finnegan residence, now a temporary safehouse
Warnings: PG-13 for language and not-quite-sexual situations
Status: Complete
The previous few days -- Ginny was not even quite sure how many -- had passed in a dull haze: they'd spent time being tended by Healer Pye, and then she and Teddy had come with Dean to the safehouse that used to be the Fawcett-Finnegan home, before they left the island; only Seamus was here now, too, healing from his injuries and trying not to worry his wife with what he'd actually been up to....
Wife. Ginny let out a shuddering sigh and stared into the fire. The house was quiet now; everyone else had long since gone to bed. That's where she was supposed to be, too, but she couldn't make herself sleep, and the lying there thinking would surely have driven her mad. So now she sat staring into the fire, an old photo album -- one of the few things she'd grabbed in a hasty trip to the farm -- lying open in her lap, the bottle of wine beside her more than half-gone.
Her head lolled in a fog of oblivion that wasn't really anything like sleep. Her hand slid off the edge of the photo album -- and onto a warm, wet nose. "Padf---?" she mumbled, and started back into bleary consciousness. "...Oh. Hi, Maya." She reached down to scratch the dingo behind the ears. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"Shouldn't you?" came softly across the room from where Dean stood in the doorway to the sitting room. Crossing his arms, he leaned his shoulder against the door frame, letting Ginny have her room in case she wanted him to just bugger off. "And here I thought Maya was finally turning out to be a good watchdog. Although I'm much happier to see you about than Seamus. Threats to tie him to the bed aren't nearly as fiercesome when he keeps making lewd jokes and snickering over the matter."
"Well, at least your taste in friends is consistent," Ginny replied, and looked up at him with a weary grin.
"I'm not sure if it's a consistency of my tastes or in Shay's case, just a consistency in his personality," Dean admitted with a very slight shrug. "No matter what I do, I think he'll always be my friend." He couldn't help chuckling in amusement, knowing it wasn't by far the case now and would likely never be. "Whether I like it or not." He paused a long moment as he breathed out a heavy sigh, his eyes resting on the wine bottle. "Some people say that one shouldn't drink alone."
Following his gaze, Ginny picked up the wine bottle and held it out to him. "I'm afraid I've already finished most of it, but you're welcome to what's left." With her other hand she shut the photo album and hugged it to her chest; its black damask cover almost seemed to absorb more than its share of the light from the fire. A bit unsteadily, Ginny moved to perch on the arm of the chair she'd been sitting in, offering the seat to Dean.
At the offer, Dean straightened up and walked over to sit down in the chair as he took the bottle. Patting his knee lightly to show that he didn't mind if she reclaimed her seat even though he was now sitting in it, he smiled in understanding. "No one will blame you for finishing the bottle, I imagine. Well, finished all but a few sips," he said before taking a sip from the bottle. Looking at the fire for a moment, he ran a hand over his head slowly. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked very softly finally.
"Not really," Ginny replied with a rueful smile. "Talking about it leads to thinking about it, and that way lies madness."
She slid into his lap and curled up with her head on his chest. She was silent for a long time before she added, "I knew it was time for a drink when I realised I was lying in bed compiling a mental list of who I could fuck that would piss him off the most." She snorted, bitterly. "And there were Malfoys on it."
Wrapping an arm comfortingly around Ginny, Dean made a face as he shook his head. "That plan would only work well if you did it in such a place so that he'd actually know what you were doing. Which is likely too much risk for too little gratification. Especially if it's a Malfoy. Merlin knows what you'd catch from that sort of relation." Taking another sip from the bottle, he rubbed his hand soothingly over Ginny's back. "There may be some board games of some sort about if you want a distraction. Or at least some cards." He smirked. "Or we could just try adding to that hole that Shay's kids started. Nothing like hard labor to keep the mind busy."
"Hard labor on half a bottle of wine would certainly be a distraction," Ginny agreed. "The Dead People Book works too, though, and it's less likely to make me vomit." She patted the album in her lap and relaxed a little against Dean's chest, like a cat getting comfortable.
"I would think the Dead People Book would make you think more, not less," Dean commented curiously. "Although not vomitting is always a plus. Perhaps a book with a cheerier title instead though? Or are you intent on a more wallowing sort of non-thinking?"
"I am not wallowing," Ginny replied with a petulance that probably came from wine mixed with exhaustion. She sounded remarkably like her old teenaged self. "Wallowing would be if I'd brought my wedding album. At least nobody in this book ever betrayed me."
"That would be pure mascochism," Dean pointed out. "Unless you were pulling it out to draw mustaches on all the pictures. Then it would just be ill-placed vengence." Rubbing his hand over her back in a circle, his fingers absently searching for knots to massage and soothe out, his brow furrowed as a thought came back to the front of his mind with Ginny's statement. "This may seem like a non-sequitor, but... Are Killing Curses always green?" It was a fact that had kept tugging at the edge of his mind ever since Harry had shot that curse at Seamus. Seamus didn't recall them being any other color but green, but then the topic also tended to mean that Seamus stopped thinking properly in favor of ranting angrily about how Potter could do such a thing.
Ginny stiffened a little at the question -- it brought back hard memories of the very friends in whose photos she'd been taking comfort that evening. "I'm no expert---- Well. I suppose I'm more of an expert than I'd like to be. But as far as I recall, the only ones I've seen have been green. Why do you ask?"
Dean wrapped his arm tighter around Ginny, knowing it was a bad topic, but... the circumstances just weren't matching up. "During the fight..." he said softly, keeping his voice calm so as not to make the topic more disturbing. "We can leave it be if you want afterwards, but during the fight when Shay and I spotted-" He paused, about to say 'you know who', but realizing that referring to Ginny's thought to be dead husband and savior of the world in the same way people had refered to Voldemort was not the best way to continue this conversation. "-Harry, he shot a Killing Curse at Seamus." He held his hand up in hopes of trying to keep Ginny quiet long enough to get the rest out. "At least the words he said were very much those of the Killing Curse, but the spell Seamus dodged as red... Not green."
Ginny was silent for a long moment. Then she said, slowly, "Almost all of the Killing Curses I've ever seen were thrown by Death Eaters. And most of those were Slytherins, and their Killing Curses were all green. So that might be one possible reason that someone else might throw a different color. But then again---" She paused again, longer this time, clearly thinking. "Mum's was green, too. He was faking." She sounded very sure on this last point.
Dean nodded slowly as he kept his hand moving against Ginny's back. "That's what I've been wondering... Of course, there's no way to check for sure. Only way would have been if Seamus hadn't dodged and well... Better speculation than solid proof that spell can come in different colors."
"Yeah." Ginny began to relax again, a little, under Dean's careful ministrations. After another long moment of silence, she asked, "Did I tell you I threw my ring at him?"
"You hadn't mentioned that yet," Dean said with a shake of his head. "How did he react to that? If you don't mind saying at least..."
She swallowed, audibly, as if trying to keep control of her voice. "It's the only thing I said or did that seemed to break through to him. That... that hurt him. And then he ran."
Hugging his arms around Ginny, Dean murmured soothingly before taking a deep breath. "Maybe..." he started before shaking his head, not quite sure what to say. Given what they thought was a 'fake' Killing Curse and Ginny's action actually hurting him, it seemed like there was more to this picture than they knew. But then if there was, what were they supposed to do? It isn't as if they could really ring up Harry and ask him to explain himself. If he had really turned coat, it would mean a quick trip to a cell for whoever rang him. Especially considering that having the savior of the wizarding world was the best decoy ever... He huffed out a sigh before taking a deep drink from the bottle. "Well, this is a right mess, isn't it? As if it wasn't bad before."
"Yeah." Ginny sucked in a breath as if about to say more, but then changed her mind and heaved out a shuddering sigh instead. Carefully, so as not to tumble off Dean's lap in her mildly inebriated state, she leaned down and set the photo album she'd been holding onto the floor. Then she wrapped her arms around Dean and buried her face in his shoulder. "Let's talk about something else."
Dean nodded slowly as he rubbed his hand over Ginny's back soothingly. "What about Maya?" he asked chuckling as he heard the dingo's head perk up at the sound of her name. "At least Maya thinks she's a good topic of discussion. I personally think England is spoiling her and teaching her bad habits. She never dug much in Australia, but now she's set her mind on turning the back yard into a potholed mess. I'm wagering it's because the soil feels nicer to dig through here than it did down under."
"I've never dug up anything in Australia, but I'm with Maya on the joys of digging up British soil. And I've got the garden to prove it. Or... I did." Her hand slid along Dean's side and up to his chest, as if talking of digging made her long to do something tactile. Her fingers curled a little against his shirt. "You've filled out," she observed absently.
"It's either grainy sand or caked dirt. At least in the interior," Dean explained, shifting a bit in his seat as he twirled a bit of Ginny's hair around his fingers. "Of course digging about isn't as nice as the dirt never seems to actually leave you there... No matter how many times you shower." And showering was likely not the best topic to bring up considering Ginny's current exploration and comments. Clearing his throat, he nodded slightly. "That would be the hard labor... er.. hard work..." He made a bit of a face. "Bugger all... Cleaning and hunting and building shelters and the like. Not as much with the sitting about and watching telly."
"Well. You always were good with your hands, love." Ginny's movements had grown languid, probably from some combination of the alcohol and the lack of sleep catching up with her. Her voice was low and husky. "Are you going to keep it up now that you're back home?" Her fingers trailed up to his shoulder and along his upper arm, which felt warm and solid and comforting.
"The hunting and building?" Dean asked, even as his cheeks darkened slightly at the other thing that came to mind with her wording. "Maybe... It isn't as... important here as it was down there. As much as people may complain about the climate, it's not nearly as inhospitable as other places. I think also being able to just jump off to a store for some jaffa cakes if you really want them also doesn't add as much intensity to the atmosphere... But I wouldn't mind. It's nice in a way to know that you can be completely self-reliant."
"Mm, yes. That's a bit of what I've been after with the farm. Knowing we could survive even if we were completely cut off." She slid her hand the rest of the way down his arm and twined her fingers through his. "Were you able to keep up with your art? Or did all the building become your method of self-expression?" She moved a little in his lap, making herself more comfortable, and closed her eyes.
Moving his hand to better grasp Ginny's, Dean gave it a reassuring squeeze, his fingers tightening a bit more than he meant at her shifting on his lap. "I kept up with my art," he said, clearing his throat a bit in order to dispel a bit of the huskiness that had crept into his voice. "Art down there is... different though. At least with the aboriginals. It's more symbolic and feeling than anything else. They also have more of a sense of ownership of the art. Even if they may sell bits to tourists, it's still very much their art and their creative idea and story. They get very angry if someone steals their art. And... there's magic centered around it. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around that bit."
"Well, but we make magic with our hands, too," Ginny murmured drowsily. "Potionmaking is like that. And it's more of an art than people think, even if it doesn't stir the soul the same way. Usually." She yawned but tried to talk around it. "Although cooking is sort of that. Handmade magic that stirs the soul."
Dean chuckled softly as he shook his head. "This is different than that though... It's more... divination sort of magic channeled through art. But not the sort of shite that Trelawney tried to teach. It's... everything..." Reaching his hand up, he ruffled Ginny's hair teasingly. "And probably not something I should try and explain when your yawns are eating half of your sentences. We should get you to bed, Gin."
"Don' wanna!" Ginny protested, as if she were six, and curled up in a tight little ball on Dean's lap. A moment later she relented, though, uncurling herself with a sigh and opening her eyes blearily. "I know it would unfair to the point of meanness to ask you to sleep with me." She blinked. "Er, in my bed, I mean."
Dean's cheeks darkened as he cleared his throat and ran a hand over his head. "Gin..." he started before pausing a moment to collect his thoughts so he could word them properly, especially considering what Ginny had been through and the fact that she had a good amount of alcohol in her. "I'm here for you, whatever you need. We're adults now, even if we'd rather not think of it that way, and you've been having a really shite time of it lately and... I care about you. Have since Hogwarts. And I don't want you beating yourself up in the morning because you did something you thought was a good idea at the time and, once the wine left, realised wasn't the best choice." He smiled warmly. "That being said, if you just need someone to lie in your bed like a log so you don't have to fall asleep alone, I can handle it and won't be a whiny little prick about spending the night in bed with a hot woman and not getting any action."
Ginny smiled, a bit ruefully, and sat up so she could look Dean in the eye. "That is what I'm asking, yeah. Just not having to be alone. Maybe not all night, but... if you could just stay with me 'til I fell asleep, I think I might manage without any nightmares. I know it's childish, but... well, there you go." She reached up and touched his cheek. "You've been a good friend, Dean -- probably better than I deserve, considering I haven't always treated you as well as I should. Merlin knows that under different circumstances, I would owe you a proper fuck right now, and would have no qualms about paying up. But you're right -- as things are, I'd only hate myself for it later."
"That being said..." Dean started, a cheeky grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "If you ever find that you wouldn't hate yourself for it later, I am more than willing for you to pay up on that debt, considering previously mentioned caring about you as well as your obvious attractiveness." Turning his head slightly, he brushed his lips against the palm of Ginny's hand before he shifted his arms so that he could properly wrap them around Ginny and keep her steady in his arms as he stood up. "Anyways, right now, it's to bed with you. Would you like a story to go to sleep to as well?"
"I suppose asking for a story about a randy artist would be right out?" Ginny smiled sweetly.
Dean laughed as he shook his head and started to carry Ginny to the room she was staying in. "A tale like that isn't one to fall asleep to," he teased. "And may not be as fun as one would expect when the storyteller makes a no touching rule because otherwise that would be very, very cruel of the 'innocent' listener."
Ginny couldn't help but grin at the characterization of the listener in this scenario as 'innocent'. "I suppose you'll just have to tell me a story about Maya saving the world, then." She snapped her fingers lightly as Maya, who'd fallen asleep by the fire, perked up at the sound of her name and got up to follow them.