Disclaimer: Come on, people, if I owned any little piece of the wonderful world of Harry Potter, do you really think I would be writing this story? Well for those of you who think I would, I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING. EVERYTHING BELONGS TO JK ROWLING sighs, and church-like opera music starts playing; may God BLESS her!.
A/N: This is my second fic; I have been reading stories for about a year now, and I decided it was high time I wrote one; I hope you love it. It's Harry/Ginny, although the real fluffiness and romance won't really show up in this chapter, so don't get too excited--just keep reading, and REVIEW.
Summary: Harry is certain that no-one understands him and that he can never be what he has to be for the sake of the wizarding world, but our favorite red-headed witch has different ideas. summer after OotP. SPOILERS! R you won't regret it. PG13 for language.
Sometimes You Just Need A Slap in the Face
Chapter 1: Play Dead
darling
stop confusing me
with your wishful thinking
hopeful embraces
don't you understand?
i have to go through this
i belong to here where
no-one cares and no-one loves
no light no air to live in
a place called hate
the city of fear
i play dead
it stops the hurting
i play dead
and the hurt stops
it's sometimes just like sleeping
curling up
inside
my
private tortures
i nestle into pain
hug suffering
caress every ache
i play dead
it stops the hurting
"Play Dead" by Bjork
"What are you going to be when you grow up?" The question played over and over again in his mind like a broken Muggle record player.
I won't even have the chance to grow up, hethought miserably. Even inside his mind, his voice was rough and deadpan, a reflection of his heart.
These thoughts had plagued him for weeks now--and they had three sources, all of which coursed through his veins constantly, almost daring him to crack, to give up.
The raven-haired boy stopped finally tore his eyes away from the pile of shredded letters on the ground. Everyone from Ron to Professor Lupin to Ginny had owled him, but he hadn't even opened the letters.
As Harry Potter lay down on his rumpled hand-me-down sheets in Dudley's old room, he winced and let out a hoarse cry of pain. As he had been too preocuppied with brooding, he didn't even bother to go downstairs to eat. Aunt Petunia had knocked on his door about eight times (probably responding to the not-so-subtle warnings of Mad-Eye-Moody at the train station) shouting about eating so his nasty freakish friends wouldn't set their greasy feet in her impeccably clean house. Harry of course, no longer desired human contact of any sort, that being the reason he now slightly resembled the skeleton from the muggle film "A Nightmare Before Christmas". It didn't help that he had grown two inches in about a month, and his shaggy black hair had grown even more. Mrs. Weasley would just about have a heart attack. Now every time he ventured to move (even though all movement was confined to his tiny room), he felt sharp pains shooting up his limbs, through his blood, straight to his heart. It was a terribly painful feeling--some kind of aweful combination between emotional and physical anguish.
This wretched pain lasted for minutes at a time, but Harry welcomed the feeling that came immediately after it. A feeling of complete and utter numbness. A numbness that washed over and seeped through his bones and his brain so that he could not even think--which was the real pain--thinking. Thinking about the three things that had captured his mind and soul into torture.
Firstly, the fact that Dumbledore had kept so much from Harry, and Harry had trouble trusting someone who didn't trust him. Had the old wizard mentioned it before, he may have saved many lives including those of Cedric and....and...Harry could barely even think his name, let alone say it.
So, the second plaguing thought, was...er...Padfoot. Ever since he...well, didn't return from behind the veil in the Department of Mysteries, Harry could do nothing but think of how STUPID he was for not using the mirror his godfather had given him. Had the almost-sixteen-year old done so, his godfather would still be sitting in Grimmauld Place, smiling his cocky grin, his long black hair falling over a once-heartbreaking face. Had Harry practiced his Occlumency, none of it would have happened. Well, none of it except one little tidbit that Dumbledore failed to mention to Harry that was just a teensy bit important. What was it?
To put it bluntly, Harry was either to kill or be killed. The prophecy the young man had heard in Dumbledore's office that fateful night rang in his ears as if it had just happened. One must die in the hands of the other...Born as the seventh month dies...he has a power the Dark Lord knows not... And what would that be, Harry thought, the power of having a "Hero Complex"?
The fact that Harry could not control or change the prophecy is what bothered him most. He knew, as much as he hated the thought, that he'd never be able to match Voldemort in terms of power and skill. So basically, he was doomed. The Boy-Who-Lived has earned and kept his (rather annoying) nickname by a rather long streak of luck, and two friends who stuck by him for Merlin knows WHAT reason.
Alas, Harry's anger at Dumbledore, denial and grief about his godfather's death, and self-doubt of his ability to fulfill the prophecy's claims lead to his feeling unbearably overwhelmed and just about ready to disappear into thin air.
This might explain why Harry Potter didn't hear his door creak open and a petite girl--young woman--around fifteen years old enter, and for a few seconds, speak.
"HARRY?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Stop yelling, what do you want Aunt Petunia?" Harry replied in an extremely rough, unused voice.
SMACK
"Merlin! You've gone absolutely nutters! I am NOT that vile woman. And get UP, I don't want to have to repeat myself AGAIN, " This time Harry sat up, cringing, and saw a blur of red-auburn hair.
"Ginny?" Harry said.
"No, it's the bloody Grim Reaper. Although it looks like he's paid you a few visits in the last couple of weeks. Have you been eating? No, don't LOOK at me like that. GET UP; you're not brooding anymore," Ginny was glaring with her small hands in tight fists on her hips, her right hand a raw red from slapping Harry.
Harry had had it. "Ginny, stay OUT of this. You have NO idea what I'm going through. Now leave me ALONE--you don't want to get mixed up with a marked man."
"Marked man? Okay, first of all, NO I will NOT leave. Not until you tell me 1. why the bloody hell you haven't responded to our letters and therefore are making Mum cry every night, 2. why you are a 'marked man', and 3. WHY THE BLOODY HELL YOU KEEP FORGETTING THAT I WAS POSSESSED BY YOU-KNOW-WHO WHEN I WAS A MERE ELEVEN YEARS OLD. SO, the sooner you answer me those question, the sooner I'm getting you out of this crazy house and bringing you back to your REAL home: the Burrow, where there are loads of people who LOVE you. So stop your guilt and self-pity trip, welcome to life; it really sucks, but we ALL have to deal with it, so join the club," Ginny's face now matched her hair.
Harry, though fuming, realized he wasn't going to be able to convince this girl to leave, so he just stood there and glared, before his cold green eyes softened, and he smiled what would have been his usually lopsided grin but was now just a shadow. "I--I'm Sorry, Ginny. I just kind of forgot...again.
Ginny's chocolate brown eyes softened as well and her thin lips turned up into a friendly smirk. "How about we clean this dump up a little bit. Scourgify!" she said, and the room was once again in order. She opened the curtains, and Harry ducked out of the blinding light, having dwelled in the darkness for an unhealthy period of time. "There, that's MUCH better," she said brightly, "And if you're wondering where Ron and Hermione are, they're both waiting for you at the Burrow. Oh yes, Happy Birthday!"
"What?" Harry replied daftly.
"Erm...your birthday is today? It's July 31st, Harry. You're sixteen today. Bloody hell, you needed that slap," Ginny had one eyebrow raised.
"Er...Ginny?" Harry asked cautiously, as Ginny packed up his belongings, "Why did you slap me?"
"We all need a slap in the face once in a while Harry, and trust me, you REALLY needed it. Is this your only trunk?" Ginny clearly thought getting slapped in the face was as normal as drinking pumpkin juice, so Harry shrugged.
"Ginny?"
"Yes, Harry"
"Thanks. So, are Ron and Hermione still fighting?" he said, wondering why she wasn't clubbing him over the head for not answering his questions.
"I would be frightened if they weren't. I just wish they would start snogging and get it over with. Merlin. Ready to go?"
Curiosity got the better of him. "I thought you wanted me to answer your questions?" Harry inquired with a hint of teasing in his voice.
"I want you to be happy, Harry. And that wasn't possible in this hellhole, so I came to get you out of it. You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to Harry, and I understand if you'd rather talk to Hermione and Ron. It's just that--well--I know what it feels like to have Him consume your every thought and dream. So if you ever want to talk, I'm always ready to listen if you need another friend."
There was a pregnant pause until Harry stood up from his now neat bed and took his first real glance at Ginny. In the light, she for some reason looked different to him than she had before--- more comfortable and relaxed around him. Not to mention she was quite pretty, although Harry pushed that thought out of his mind; she was Ron's little sister, that would be too weird to even think about.
"Harry?" Ginny saw that Harry had been staring at her for about two minutes, not that she really minded, but she was starting to get a little bit uncomfortable. "Is there something on my face or something?"
"Wha--oh..er...no. No! Of course not! Your face looks great! I mean, it's alright....I mean...er...let's go, then!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: Ok, that, my furry friends, is chapter numero uno. I actually love writing this, so I think I'll keep going, but you know what I love even more? REVIEWS!!! They make my life; pathetic but true. The majority of this chapter was rather dark, but it's going to be a lot lighter as the story moves along. As this is a Harry/Ginny fic, their relationship will preside over most everything, but I do plan to stick a little Ron/Hermione and of course, the things that usually happen in Harry's life. A lot of people write about what they think will happen in the 6th book, and though I will stick with the themes in JK Rowling's books, I am not trying to write in her style or continue her story where she left off. So please PLEASE PLEASE review. I welcome ANYTHING you've got to say to me. If you've got praises, I love you. If you've got flames, I'm a pyromaniac, so I still love you. But I ask you to try your best to offer CONSTRUCTIVE criticism.
Much much much love and leprechauns and pineapple juice,
India