TITLE: Sweet Dreams
AUTHOR: Becca
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RATING:
CATEGORY: ::thinks:: I'm not sure. I guess...angst, maybe...suspense? Horror? ::giggles:: HA! Can you imagine me writing a horror story?! ::full moon comes out:: Ahh! No...no.... NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!
ARCHIVE: Sure, just drop me a line!
SUMMARY: Ginny is experiencing a strange phenomenon....
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Prologue
She woke from the cold air that wrapped around her. The unpleasant feeling that she wasn't alone in the empty room caused her to seep further under the blankets, to where she couldn't see the horror that she knew was just around the corner.
She heard footsteps, and the rustle of someone trying to get under her covers. She opened her mouth, and tried with all her might to cry out to anyone who could hear, but her vocal cords had failed from fright. She could see the image of what was outside, and she could tell it was one of the worst that had ever come to visit her.
She kicked the bottom of the blankets, causing the figure to hesitate before going any further. She stuck a hand out of the blankets, grabbed a flashlight, and brought it back under. Turning the flashlight on, the figure quickly ran back out of the room.
One tear fell, followed by four more, and suddenly she was sobbing. She tried everything, but they wouldn't leave her alone. They came, every night, same time, wanting something that she knew she couldn't give them.
And yet, they always came back…
Chapter One
He watched as she walked down the stairs. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were puffy, and dark circles had formed under her eyes, making her look five years older then she was. It was the way she looked every morning, before she took a comb to her hair, and some foundation to her skin.
He tried asking her if she was sleeping well, and she would laugh and tell him she was fine. But he knew that she was covering something up. She hadn't been the same since He had come back. Which was odd, because everyone expected for it to be him that woke up with puffy eyes and circles.
"Morning, Ginny," her brother Ron yawned to her, shoving some bacon into his wide mouth.
Ginny didn't reply. She was staring at the empty seat next to Fred, the one that usually had George in it.
"Ginny?" Harry asked, staring at the paling girl. She turned to him, her brown eyes wide, and then suddenly ran upstairs.
Harry turned to Ron. "I'm really worried."
Ron stared back at Harry. "She did just lose a brother, Harry. I mean, we're all still hurting since George—" he could go no further.
Harry stared at his plate full of eggs and bacon, then back at George's empty seat. It had been months, three at least, since they had lost George. He had been a victim of Voldemort, just like the hundreds of others that had died since his return…
"I know, Ron," Harry answered. "But everyone else seems to be fine."
"She's just hurting, Harry. Just leave her alone."
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She walked down the stairs, knowing she was a total mess. She knew Harry would stare at her, and she honestly didn't care. She didn't care about much, anymore. All she really and truly cared about, was trying to find a way to make all the horrible things go away.
She was thankful that no one knew what she was going through. She wanted help, but at the same time, didn't want anyone to go through what she felt every single night. The fear that inhibited her body was sickening. No one should have to go through what she put up with.
Everyone thought that her problems had to do with George. They had lost George to Him. George was
walking home late one night from the joke shop, which was doing quite well, when....But though she did miss her brother, she cared more about the fright that visited her every night.
She saw Harry give her that worried look, and she cursed at herself for not putting on some kind of makeup. But then she remembered: she didn't care.
"Morning, Ginny," her brother Ron yawned to her, shoving some bacon into his wide mouth.
But she couldn't reply. The seat that was next to Fred usually held George, and nowadays, it was empty. But it wasn't empty. She knew that no one else could see, but she saw who was in the chair. She wanted to scream, she was trying to scream. But her voice always left her when she needed it most.
"Ginny?" Harry asked, staring at the paling girl. She turned to him, her brown eyes wide, and then suddenly ran upstairs. She knew that he was worried about her, that in a few minutes he'd be coming to her room to see her, but she really didn't care.
None of them had seen what she saw. None of them knew that the empty chair wasn't empty. None of them knew that this was the first time they had come out in groups. None of them knew who "they" were.
Only she did. She was the only one who knew true fear. Even young Harry, a boy who had been through so much in such a short time, didn't understand. And would never understand.
She had wondered many times whether or not she should tell Dumbledore. She had always ended up deciding not to write to him. He wouldn't believe her. After all, who would believe a story like hers? It was ridiculous. It was inane. It was true.
"Ginny?"
She sighed. He had come up to see her too soon. She was hoping to write one journal entry before having to deal with him.
"Come in, Harry."
The boy walked into her room, and smiled at her as she picked up a brush and began to control her hair. "So...how are you?"
She knew this routine. He was going to act casual, as though there were nothing wrong, then ask her if anything was bothering her. She had this conversation with him at least every week. Maybe even as many as three times a week. She decided that she was just going to cut the fluff talk and tell him not to worry. She had to go through this on her own.
"Harry, I know why you're here. I know that you're worried about me." Her frown deepened when he nodded. She desperately wanted to tell him...but she wanted him to like her. Not laugh at her. "I'm all right, Harry. It's just seeing Geor—"
"Let me guess," Harry said, cutting her off. "It's just seeing George's empty chair brings back too many memories." He walked closer to her. "Ginny, that's what you tell me every time I come up here to talk to you." He sighed, grabbed her hand, and led he to the bed. "Ginny. Sit."
She listened to him, knowing that her excuse was just like all the others. She did use that excuse every time one of them occupied the chair. But what else was she to say? Telling the truth would just get her into a psychologist's couch.
"Ginny. I'm worried."
She smiled at him, griping his hand harder. "I know, Harry. But there is nothing to be worried about. I'm fine."
He looked at her hand. The sleeves from her night gown covered her arms, which he hadn't seen in so long. She would always wear short sleeves: she found them more comfortable. He knew this for a fact. But lately, she only wore long sleeves. Always covering up every part of her body.
He lifted her arm, and began to pull back the long, loose sleeves. She smacked his hand back, causing him to retreat, and let the sleeve go.
"What was that for, Gin?" he asked, staring at the girl.
She hesitated. What would she tell him? If she saw what was on her arm.... "I'm cold."
He raised an eyebrow. "Lame excuse," he said sternly. "Lift the sleeve. Now."
She panicked, but knew she had no choice. She lifted the sleeve up, just the tiniest bit, but his hand took control and pushed it up all the way.
"Ginny!" he cried, jumping back at the arm.
She lowered her head. What else was she to do? She could always run...always grab her broom and never come back. But Harry knew too much all ready.
He lightly touched one of the scratches, one which had become infected. She winced at the pain, and he stopped touching it immediately.
"Virginia Grace Weasley, what is this from? Has someone been hurting you?" Harry demanded.
"N-No..." Ginny stammered. "Not exactly..."
Harry suddenly became angry. "What is that supposed to mean? Who did this to you? I want to know: I demand to know!"
Tears fell from Ginny's swollen eyes. "No one, Harry! It was no one!" She had to think of a quick lie. "I-I did this to myself. It's my fault."
Harry stared at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. "You did not." Harry knew she was distant, but she wasn't abusive. Or suicidal. "I want to know where these came from. And if you don't tell me, then you will tell Albus Dumbledore."
She gasped. She couldn't let Dumbledore see this—he'd want to know where it was from. And he would laugh, along with everyone else. Who would do this to her? Who could she lie about? Her father? No. Arthur was too kind to do this to her, and everyone knew it. Percy? No...Percy hadn't been home in a month. Ron? Ron was capable of doing it. Maybe out of anger because of how she felt about Harry. But would Harry buy that excuse? Probably not.
Harry grabbed Ginny's hand. "Is this all over your body? Is this why you cover yourself up all the time?"
She shook her head. "No!" But she forced too hard, and he raised the other sleeve. It was the same thing: thick, long scars and scratches covered her once beautiful, pale, freckled skin.
He gasped. His face became pale, and he dropped his hands from Ginny's arm and her hand. "Ginny..." he couldn't go any further.
"Harry, you can't tell anyone!" she pleaded with him.
He stood, and pulled her off the bed. "Turn around," he said to her face.
"What?"
He didn't ask her again. He just spun her to that her back was facing him. He lifted the back of her shirt, to find more and more scars covering her body. He back away from her, frightened by his findings.
She turned around and faced him. "You can't tell."
"I will tell," he answered, with a weak voice. "I must tell."
Her tears fell faster. "Please, Harry. Don't tell. Just...forget all about them. I'm not hurting. I'm not afraid, and you shouldn't be either. I'm all right. And I'll be okay as long as you don't tell anyone."
Harry stared at her brown eyes, eyes that were pleading with him to keep the secret. There was more then plead in the eyes, though. Harry saw much pain. Pain, and fear. Much fear.
She suddenly fell to her knees and cried harder. He knelt beside her, recognizing this as a cry for help.
"Ginny..." he pulled her close to him, rocking her gently. "Don't cry. Don't cry. I won't tell, Ginny. I won't tell anyone."
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Well? Whadda guys think? I need to know: should I keep wasting my time writing this? Do you want more? Cuz if no one wants more, then ::snort:: I'll just give it up now! But if you really want me to keep this up…lordsbecca@yahoo.com! Thankies!