Chapter One: "Dreams in Captivity"
[[Your voice sends chills down my spine. When you sing me a song it feels like I'm out of my mind. Every voice in my head goes quiet, and suddenly life doesn't seem so cold. The whole world stops it's riot and listens to your soul, but still what your voice does for me, it's uncomparable. You send me reeling out of my mind. Out of my mind. --Soul
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Two lone figures stood looking out of a window. The sky was dark, the moon full, and the night quiet.
"Things are not happening fast enough."
"Yes. Thank you. I realized that."
"Well do something!"
"There is nothing I can do. She must embrace it herself. I know she feels it. She is just dismissing it though."
"If she doesn't do something, it will be too late."
"Yes. Indeed it will."
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'Ginevra... your soul is calling...'Ginny woke with a start, and to mention a cold sweat across her forehead. She sat up in bed and grunted in frustration. She hadn't been able to sleep the entire summer. Her dreams were persistant. Persistant and confusing actually. Always another message.
'Ginevra... awaken your mind'
'Ginevra... time is here...'
'Ginevra... your voice is the light...'
Well Ginny was angry. If someone was trying to tell her something, they should say it, not code it. She stepped out of bed in search of a midnight snack. She knew sleep was all but hopeless now. Every step creaked and shadows played across the walls. She thought of her dreams, the messages, the scenes, but most of all the voice. She had heard it before, she knew it. It was amazing how enthralling it was. She found herself wanting to listen to it all night long as she dreamt. But it was only ever one line. One line and then darkness. She grabbed cheese from the cooler and placed it on the table with the rest of the sandwhich stuff, still quite distracted by her thoughts."Ginny." She jumped pulling her wand from the waist of her pyjamas and aiming at the voice. A closer look at the person and she quickly dropped her aim.
"I'm so sorry Harry! You scared me! I didn't even know you'd arrived." He smiled at her apologetically.
"Sorry Gin. I only just got here a couple of hours ago. You were asleep already." He stopped and looked at her quizzically. "You take your wand with you for a midnight snack?" She sat on a stool across him and eyes her sandwhich deliciously.
"It's become a bit of a habit lately," she answered with a full mouth. "I don't really do anything without it now."
"I see." He said. He retreated to drinking the tea in the glass in front of him and silence fell upon them. Ginny finished her sandwhich and deposited her plate into the sink.
"So," she said sitting once again, "what is Harry Potter doing up so late tonight?"
"Well I could ask the same of you..." She smiled at him.
"Touche. Well if you must know, I had a dream and found myself incapable of sleeping again." He looked at her and instantly she saw a sadness in his eyes.
"Well, I guess you can say the same for me. Odd dreams, too much on my mind."
"Yes, I can imagine. I would say, 'Don't worry Harry, everything will be fine and dandy!' But that honestly wouldn't even convince me."
"Yeah I know. So I take it things haven't been going well around here?" She thought on it for awhile, remembering the good and bad of the last month.
"I don't know. I would say things have been terrible, but sometimes I think it's all me."
"I don't understand."
"Well sometimes, I think that I'm making things more horrible in my head. Or that I'm letting things hurt me so much more then they should. Get it?" He didn't respond right away, he sat and looked at her for a very long time. She felt her face redden and gazed down, all of a sudden becoming very interested in her glass of water.
"I understand," he finally said. "But it's not you. There's a lot going on now and whether it's small or on a larger scale, it's all horrible. When you finally feel intense pain, or saddness, it probably won't hit you as hard. Because you're already feeling so much now."
Ginny suddenly felt anger. She met Harrys gaze and it disappeared.
"Harry, hard as it is for you to believe. I already know what pain and sadness is." She stood, embraced him the tightest hug she could manage and started up the stairs. "Goodnight Harry."
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Far away, a boy woke in terrible pain. He cried out, twisting in his silk sheets. A horendous ache was spreading throughout his body and his chest was so he tight, he couldn't seem to pull air into his lungs. Then as soon as it came, it was gone. He sat up slowly, his body drenched in sweat. He sat completely still for moments, afraid the spasm might come back. Several minutes later, nothing had happened. He stepped out of bed and into his restroom. He threw water on his face and breathed deep. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, wondering whether he looked ill or not. His skin was pearly pale, not dis-colored at all. There were no circles under his eyes, no spots, no signs at all. Giving up his search for sickness, he collapsed on his bed again.
Lately he had been having odd dreams. Everynight he would fall asleep and dream of a girl. It was the same girl everytime. He never really saw her face, but he knew it. She was always running away from him across green grass under blue skys. She'd always have on a white dress, it hugged her chest and fell loosely to right above her knees. And it flew back against the wind while she ran. Her hair, a blazing red, fell in loose curls down her back and to her waist. He never saw her face. Ever. And it drove him mad. Everytime he chased her down. And everytime he got closer. And when he caught her wrist and pulled her back, we would wake.
Then there was that voice. No matter what the situation, no matter what the dream, there was always a voice, humming the same tune. It was beautiful. Heavenly. He had never heard anything like it. In the day time, he would find himself humming that tune. It took him away. Though it wasn't te same if it wasn't that voice. That voice of a women. It was filled with happiness, but laced with pain. It was caring. It was a nurturing sound. He lived for that voice. He dreamt to hear that little song. It was too much.
It seemed that lately those dreams were the only good part of his days. The summer was going excruciatingly slow. His dad was never home, always off on business with the Dark Lord. Although that was another highlight of his summer. But his mother moped around all over the place. There was something seriously wrong with her. She used to walk the manor with presense and poise. She was a socialite. Made for the spotlight. Always planning a ball, attending a party, making an appearance at a charity fundraiser, but she hadn't been out of the manor in weeks. She wouldn't respond to him at all, there was nothing he could do for her. It bothered him a great deal, because there was obviously something on her mind, and she wouldn't talk to him.
The sky outside was black and the stars were bright. Worries were clouding his mind again so he shut his eyes willing sleep to take him. Longing for his fiery angel to invade his dreams.
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I know. Short. Don't remind me. But anyway, what do you think? Review please. Then I'll post another. Happy reading.
No really. Review...