Summary: Harry feels lonely at Grimmauld Place. His best mates can't cheer him up. He's always daydreaming, causing someone to miss him. Finally, in two nights, he finds he's not really alone…

Never Lonely

The two of them watched as he cradled his head in his hands. His breathing was low. They were afraid to approach him. His heart pained and his life tortured. Nothing not even to of his best mates, seemed to be able to heal the wounds that scarred his life. Silence stretched as he slowly raised his head, his eyes trained on the fire as tears slid down his cheeks, unnoticed.

Hermione looked over at Ron with her own tears, as they went unseen by their friend. He gave a weak smile and nodded his head towards the stairs as a hint to leave Harry alone. With a reluctant nod, she followed him.

Harry continued staring at the fire. He was so tired of feeling alone. So tired of trying to hold onto something and just to have it slip through his fingers like water. He breathed in shakily and leaned back against the char. He ran a hand through his hair and noticed the tears. Wiping them away angrily as a lump formed in his throat, he stared ahead, once again losing himself in his thoughts.

The house seemed so empty, even though people slept upstairs. The wind moaned and groaned against the Grimmauld Place. He was too caught up in his misery to notice a new pair of eyes on him. They gazed at him with a saddened heart. The girl leaned against the doorway as she watched him. He didn't even feel her stare.

Taking a handkerchief that Ron had handed to her only moments before, she held it to her chest, watching as a long wet trail formed on his cheek. Breathing in deeply, she took a brave step forward and neared her wounded friend. The floor creaked under her and she stopped, afraid he might have heard her.

He hadn't.

She lowered her breathing so he wouldn't hear her. She wanted him to feel her, to know that she was there. Once she was close enough, she took the handkerchief and gently wiped the tear and its wet trail off his cheek. He looked up at her in surprise and blushed slightly. His eyes were still dazed from being in his thoughts and dreams.

"Ginny?" he asked hoarsely, and she smiled. "What are you doing down here?"

She didn't answer him. "Why are you crying?" she asked instead.

He frowned, shaking his head. "I didn't even realize," he muttered, as his cheeks' rosy color darkened a bit more.

She took his hand and pressed the handkerchief into it. "I'm here, Harry," she said softly, as she removed her small hand from his bigger one.

He stared down at the cloth as she straightened and leaned on the back of the chair. He looked up and met her eyes. "I know, Ginny," he said with slight confusion.

She nodded and sighed as she rested her head on her folded arms. "Sometimes," she began, as she shifted her weight, "I think you forget that."

He opened his mouth but soon closed it, as he played with the cloth that was now between his fingers. He looked back at the fire and sighed as well. Maybe she was right.

-

Around eleven thirty the next night, he came downstairs to think again, He believed no one was down there…but she was. A thin blanket had been tossed over her as she slept on the couch. Her long red hair flamed around her shoulders and face and glinted against the dying fire. Her lips were parted as her cheek rested against the arms she was using as a pillow.

He was staring. Maybe he was staring too much. He looked away, wondering if she had been there since after dinner. She hadn't, but he wouldn't know that, as he hadn't come down to eat. Looking back at her, she shifted and he could see her eyes move behind her eyelids.

Should he head back bed where he could listen to Ron's murmurs about Hermione and, occasionally, spiders? He didn't want to. He wanted to be alone to think. But, Ginny was here. He didn't know why he was so scared as he stood in the doorway. He didn't even know why his eyes kept looking over at her without him noticing.

He mentally kicked himself; he was being foolish. Running a hand through his hair, he walked towards the free chair. His feet caused the floor to creak and he stiffened, hoping he hadn't wakened her. He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding when he noticed she hadn't even stirred.

He finally reached the chair and sat. He could hear the wind bat the shutters against the house. He could hear the echoing ticks and tocks of the clock in the hallway. He shivered and noticed how haunted the house seemed. Ignoring the odd feeling of fright, he looked over that now roared brilliantly at his arrival. He shifted in his seat. He couldn't think.

Shaking his head, he looked over at her again; her face seemed too pale. He swallowed as she began to twist on the small couch. She was shivering now. Her body was shaking so much that the couch creaked along with it. He stood up immediately.

She soon shot up into a sitting position with her mouth open in a silent scream. He walked over and touched her shoulder. She jumped and moved away from his touched.

"Ginny," he said urgently. "It's me, Harry."

Her breathing calmed as the dazed look in her eyes seemed to disappear, slowly.

"H—Harry?" she asked in a hoarse voice. She blinked a few times, looking right at him. She shivered and he knelt down, his hand still on her shoulder.

"Yeah," he answered softly. "It's Harry."

Without any warning, he felt her skinny arms wrap around his neck as half her body started to fall from the couch. She gripped onto him as she cried on his shoulder. He tried sitting up a bit more so she wouldn't fall. Shock came and went before he placed his hand on her back and rubbed a soothing circle.

Her sobs quieted down as they sat there in silence. He could feel her breath brushing against his neck, and it took so much to not shiver in response. She pulled back and brushed away the tears, quickly. He felt a bit cold as the warmth of her body left him.

He shook his head from that thought and reached into his pocket. The cloth touched his fingertips before he grabbed it and took it out. He reached over and stopped her hand. She stared at him in confusion. He offered a weak smile before wiping away the fallen tears.

She smiled, reached up, and touched his hand, making him stop completely. Her smile slowly formed into a grin before she laughed. He smiled before laughing with her. An odd rush of warmth came into his chest. He stopped and she grinned at him, his hand now down in her lap with her hand still holding his.

He paused and straightened. He got up and sat next to her. She shifted so she now faced the fireplace with her feet touching the cool floor. She spread the thin blanket over both their laps and she looked over at her.

"Why were you crying?" he asked quietly.

She fiddled with the edge of the blanket and offered a weak smile. "I dreamt of you."

He raised an eyebrow before smiling. "Such a compliment," he said.

She rolled her eyes and swatted him in the stomach. "I didn't mean that," she said seriously. He nodded for her to continue, and she sighed and pushed back a stray lock of red hair. "I dreamt of your death."

A paused stretched as the words sank in. "Why?" he asked.

She looked up and met his eyes. He looked back into them, noticing how sad they looked. "I'm scared to lose you, Harry."

He shifted in his seat his thigh brushed hers. He noticed she was wearing shorts and cursed himself for even thinking of that. Closing his eyes for a quick moment, he erased that thought and looked back at her. Her eyes were trained on the fire. "I'm here," he answered, as he snapped back to reality.

Her shoulders sunk and he felt pain tug at him. "Not all the time," she said softly. "You're always daydreaming and your mind wandering. You're never really here, are you?"

"I'm here now," he said in a bit of an aggravated tone.

She raised an eyebrow at him before sighing.

"I know," she said, as the corner of her lips curved upwards. "And I'm glad."

He relaxed, and his sudden annoyance was gone. He smiled before frowning thoughtfully. "I won't leave again," he said seriously.

She leaned against him a bit, and he could feel her shoulder press onto his. She yawned, her hand now dropping onto his shoulder. "Good," she whispered. "I missed you," she added, as he watched her eyes close shut.

He leaned against the armrest and she shifted her head over to his chest. Somehow they squeezed together comfortably on the couch. "Good," he said, running a hand through her soft hair. "I missed you too," he said, as he shut his own eyes.

Now, he could hear the flicker of the fire and the soft ticks and tocks of the clock in the hallway. Ginny's breathing deepened as he started to fall into a peaceful slumber he hadn't gotten in ages. He finally had the feeling he thought he'd lost so lone again…a feeling of home.

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