Dreams
ShadowRomantic
Somewhere inside himself Harry knew he was dreaming. Thick, warm, heavy, comforting blankets covered him. Somewhere he could hear one of his dorm mates snoring. Night frozen air caressed his face, making his nose hurt whenever he inhaled. He realized he couldn't be too deeply asleep. He realized that somewhere inside of himself.
Warm and tired, his limps still somehow burned a little. Quiditch practice had gone on and on and on. Flying was awesome, one of the best pleasures he knew. Sliding through the air on his Firebolt, seeing the world blur by, racing to the snitch, feeling the cold metal in his hands, these were the sensations that made life really worthwhile.
After practice, frozen through every muscle and bone to whatever lay beneath, Harry went back to the Gryffindor common room. The room was warm, decked out with a blazing fire, one that gave off comforting heat. It was coming home from a cold world, one where there were seven other people ready to tackle or beat him off of his Firebolt. Coming back to the common room and the glorious heat, warmth like home, was being reminded that there were also six other people who were his friends, there and ready to help him succeed.
Still, it wasn't as perfect as it could be. Waiting for him and Ron was an essay for Potions. As Harry sat down at a table he couldn't help but think of Snape's smirking face as he told the class their newest assignment. It was longer than it should have been. Really, how much could one write about Cryo Juice? Cryo Juice was one of the few potions Harry really felt confident with. Snape probably knew that, and in an ironic attempt at malice, he made the essay longer than necessary. Harry wrote out everything he knew about it, and then he was only half way done. He'd spent another hour trying to think of the most minute details to fill in his paper. Harry, laying in bed, felt his eyes jaw clench at the thought.
Something close to dark hatred seethed inside Harry. The rage brought him Sirius' face. His god father was dead. Harry swallowed, thinking back to the stupid simplicity of his, Sirius', death.
"Stop it," he silently said to himself.
His eyes locked shut Harry forced himself to think about something, someone, anyone else. Faces of everyone he knew started to flash. Thinking about the Dursleys wouldn't calm him at all; remembering them only brought on more anger.
Harry settled on thoughts of his two best friends. Without thinking about it, he could visualize Hermione's frown the last time he and Ron put off their homework. Instead they went out to the lake, already frozen, and had a snowball fight with some other students. Harry smiled at the memory. He saw Ron, tall, with a hooked nose and fiery red hair. Harry frowned a little when he thought about their last fight. It had happened almost a week ago.
"I am too focusing!"
"No, you're not. You keep looking at that girl behind me. Stop it! Focus!"
"I'm not looking at that girl!"
"Then what are you looking at?" Hermione had hissed. Ron's face had burned bright crimson. Hermione, a second later answered her own question, "You're not looking at your book. Focus! You can't fail this test."
Next to Harry, Ginny had elbowed him, Harry, and whispered, "It's kind of sweet."
"I guess," Harry had answered, not really knowing what was kind of sweet but being too embarrassed to ask.
Ginny.
Virginia Weasley.
Ginny Weasley.
Harry realized that he liked her name. It had a sweet, soft sound. He realized that her formal name, Virginia, sounded a lot stronger. It was like a part of her, or an interpretation of her that was a lot stronger. He grinned at that.
Little Ginny Weasley, Ron's little sister, was a lot stronger than she looked. The short, crimson haired girl with chocolate brown eyes, and a heart shaped face had somehow managed to survive against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It was an insane thought. Even more insane was that it was true.
Thinking about her, he saw something he didn't realize he was capable of imagining. They would be sitting in front of the lake. The sun would be setting, casting its golden rays down onto the rippling waters. It would be cold. Innocently, concerned only with Gin's comfort, he would put his arm around her. She would lean her head against his shoulder. Harry, half asleep in his bed, swallowed nervously.
Back at the bank of the lake he could sleep her shampoo. The sweet scent of strawberries, fresh and saccharine would waft through the air. He would feel the weight of her body leaning against him. The human contact felt blissful. It wasn't something he received very often.
The musing felt oddly real. In the dreamscape his heart would start to beat more quickly. His palms would break out in a thin film of sweat. He would swallow nervously. Somehow he wasn't sure he would be able do it.
Now there was a psychotic thought. He could somehow manage to fight off one of the most powerful dark wizards again and again, but he couldn't do this simple act. It was a question, one that was so simple.
"Ginny?" He would whisper. His voice might sound hoarse. Harry knew that his throat would be parched.
"Yes?"
"Wouldyouliketogooutwithmesomtime?"
Someone was shaking him. At first he didn't understand, there wouldn't be anyone around to shake him. After all, he and Ginny would be alone. If he was going to ask her out, he would not be doing it where someone could see him get rejected, become dejected, by the little sister of one of his best friends.
"Harry! It's time to get up!" Ron's voice broke in.
"Huh?"
"It's time to wake up. C'mon, it's time for some breakfast."
"Uh, okay."
Harry, as he got dressed, didn't really think about his dream. He didn't think about whether or not it was a dream or a fantasy. Only half awake, all of his brain power focused on getting his things together for the rest of the day and making sure that he didn't put his robes on backwards like Neville did once.
Only as he made his way down the stairs to the common room did he being to wonder if those images last night were a dream, a musing, or maybe even a fantasy. One thing he knew for sure, he felt happy. Harry remembered the scent of Ginny's hair, the weight of her body against his and the warmth that came with her.
(Author's note: I had a lot of fun writing this piece. Now I know that it can continue. One thought would be how Harry reacts when he sees Ginny again. I have some ideas that might make this piece continue. If reviewers enjoy this, I will continue working on it. Also, if it's not very good, tell me and I'll be sure to focus on other, more entertaining pieces. So, feel free to review. Thanks!)
ShadowRomantic
Somewhere inside himself Harry knew he was dreaming. Thick, warm, heavy, comforting blankets covered him. Somewhere he could hear one of his dorm mates snoring. Night frozen air caressed his face, making his nose hurt whenever he inhaled. He realized he couldn't be too deeply asleep. He realized that somewhere inside of himself.
Warm and tired, his limps still somehow burned a little. Quiditch practice had gone on and on and on. Flying was awesome, one of the best pleasures he knew. Sliding through the air on his Firebolt, seeing the world blur by, racing to the snitch, feeling the cold metal in his hands, these were the sensations that made life really worthwhile.
After practice, frozen through every muscle and bone to whatever lay beneath, Harry went back to the Gryffindor common room. The room was warm, decked out with a blazing fire, one that gave off comforting heat. It was coming home from a cold world, one where there were seven other people ready to tackle or beat him off of his Firebolt. Coming back to the common room and the glorious heat, warmth like home, was being reminded that there were also six other people who were his friends, there and ready to help him succeed.
Still, it wasn't as perfect as it could be. Waiting for him and Ron was an essay for Potions. As Harry sat down at a table he couldn't help but think of Snape's smirking face as he told the class their newest assignment. It was longer than it should have been. Really, how much could one write about Cryo Juice? Cryo Juice was one of the few potions Harry really felt confident with. Snape probably knew that, and in an ironic attempt at malice, he made the essay longer than necessary. Harry wrote out everything he knew about it, and then he was only half way done. He'd spent another hour trying to think of the most minute details to fill in his paper. Harry, laying in bed, felt his eyes jaw clench at the thought.
Something close to dark hatred seethed inside Harry. The rage brought him Sirius' face. His god father was dead. Harry swallowed, thinking back to the stupid simplicity of his, Sirius', death.
"Stop it," he silently said to himself.
His eyes locked shut Harry forced himself to think about something, someone, anyone else. Faces of everyone he knew started to flash. Thinking about the Dursleys wouldn't calm him at all; remembering them only brought on more anger.
Harry settled on thoughts of his two best friends. Without thinking about it, he could visualize Hermione's frown the last time he and Ron put off their homework. Instead they went out to the lake, already frozen, and had a snowball fight with some other students. Harry smiled at the memory. He saw Ron, tall, with a hooked nose and fiery red hair. Harry frowned a little when he thought about their last fight. It had happened almost a week ago.
"I am too focusing!"
"No, you're not. You keep looking at that girl behind me. Stop it! Focus!"
"I'm not looking at that girl!"
"Then what are you looking at?" Hermione had hissed. Ron's face had burned bright crimson. Hermione, a second later answered her own question, "You're not looking at your book. Focus! You can't fail this test."
Next to Harry, Ginny had elbowed him, Harry, and whispered, "It's kind of sweet."
"I guess," Harry had answered, not really knowing what was kind of sweet but being too embarrassed to ask.
Ginny.
Virginia Weasley.
Ginny Weasley.
Harry realized that he liked her name. It had a sweet, soft sound. He realized that her formal name, Virginia, sounded a lot stronger. It was like a part of her, or an interpretation of her that was a lot stronger. He grinned at that.
Little Ginny Weasley, Ron's little sister, was a lot stronger than she looked. The short, crimson haired girl with chocolate brown eyes, and a heart shaped face had somehow managed to survive against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It was an insane thought. Even more insane was that it was true.
Thinking about her, he saw something he didn't realize he was capable of imagining. They would be sitting in front of the lake. The sun would be setting, casting its golden rays down onto the rippling waters. It would be cold. Innocently, concerned only with Gin's comfort, he would put his arm around her. She would lean her head against his shoulder. Harry, half asleep in his bed, swallowed nervously.
Back at the bank of the lake he could sleep her shampoo. The sweet scent of strawberries, fresh and saccharine would waft through the air. He would feel the weight of her body leaning against him. The human contact felt blissful. It wasn't something he received very often.
The musing felt oddly real. In the dreamscape his heart would start to beat more quickly. His palms would break out in a thin film of sweat. He would swallow nervously. Somehow he wasn't sure he would be able do it.
Now there was a psychotic thought. He could somehow manage to fight off one of the most powerful dark wizards again and again, but he couldn't do this simple act. It was a question, one that was so simple.
"Ginny?" He would whisper. His voice might sound hoarse. Harry knew that his throat would be parched.
"Yes?"
"Wouldyouliketogooutwithmesomtime?"
Someone was shaking him. At first he didn't understand, there wouldn't be anyone around to shake him. After all, he and Ginny would be alone. If he was going to ask her out, he would not be doing it where someone could see him get rejected, become dejected, by the little sister of one of his best friends.
"Harry! It's time to get up!" Ron's voice broke in.
"Huh?"
"It's time to wake up. C'mon, it's time for some breakfast."
"Uh, okay."
Harry, as he got dressed, didn't really think about his dream. He didn't think about whether or not it was a dream or a fantasy. Only half awake, all of his brain power focused on getting his things together for the rest of the day and making sure that he didn't put his robes on backwards like Neville did once.
Only as he made his way down the stairs to the common room did he being to wonder if those images last night were a dream, a musing, or maybe even a fantasy. One thing he knew for sure, he felt happy. Harry remembered the scent of Ginny's hair, the weight of her body against his and the warmth that came with her.
(Author's note: I had a lot of fun writing this piece. Now I know that it can continue. One thought would be how Harry reacts when he sees Ginny again. I have some ideas that might make this piece continue. If reviewers enjoy this, I will continue working on it. Also, if it's not very good, tell me and I'll be sure to focus on other, more entertaining pieces. So, feel free to review. Thanks!)