Written for QLFC Round 9 [Tornadoes, Chaser 3]

Main prompt: Ginny Weasley

(song) Losing You - Dead by April

(word) evoke

(word) harm

Thank you to Ca and Vic for betaing!

Notes: This is a canon divergence, per se - Ginny doesn't fancy Harry, they stay just friends, and Gilderoy Lockhart doesn't exist.

And a heads up before the story begins — to those of you who might be wondering about the diary, Harry did destroy it, and he tucked it in his robes before Ginny woke up.

Warning for PTSD

WC: 1288

To the QL mods: I accidentally published the wrong story, but it was fixed before submission.

Ginny can't remember.

All she remembers feeling is the coldness seeping through her and a calm, alluring voice uttering words. She can't remember who it belongs to. She can't remember what they said. She can't remember what they made her do.

She is a woman possessed.

Ginny wakes up lying on a hard, slimy floor, a boulder in her stomach, with Harry's green eyes peering worriedly through grime-specked glasses. Her muscles are stiff and she feels like she's been thrown against a wall several times.

It is definitely not a good feeling.

"Are you okay?" Harry's face is smeared with dirt and his robes are caked with blood, but all his attention is on her, the girl who'd harmed, frightened, downright terrorized an entire school.

"I'm — I'm okay," she lies, trying to ignore the guilt gnawing at her insides. She's everything but okay, but she still appreciates his concern for her well-being.

Harry's eyes shift to a spot over her shoulder and he calls, "Fawkes!"

Ginny's head is still spinning, so she thinks she's hallucinating when a magnificent red-golden blur streaks overhead and perches on Harry's shoulder. It's then Ginny realizes that it's a phoenix.

"Hello, Fawkes." Harry tenderly strokes its beautiful plumage. "I know I've already asked a lot of you, but would you mind if I asked you for one more thing?"

Phoenixes, Ginny knows, are very intelligent creatures, so she isn't surprised when Fawkes understands Harry perfectly and subsequently bobs his head.

"Brilliant," Harry says, a toothy grin stretching across his lips. "Could you please get us out of here?"

Fawkes bobs his head again and cocks it in Ginny's direction. He mimes hugging something with his wings. Ginny doesn't understand him, but Harry apparently does and his face morphs into a determined expression. "Okay."

He turns back to Ginny and without warning, he wraps his arms around her in a firm embrace. Ginny nearly jumps at the contact — it's been a while since someone's hugged her like that — and it evokes a feeling of warmth inside of her.

In one swift, fluid motion, Fawkes hooks his feet into the back of Harry's robes and flaps his wings vigorously. Ginny's feet leave the ground weightlessly, dangle in midair, and then there's a whoosh as Fawkes's wings start to beat faster. The air rushes past them as they fly up, and Ginny tucks her head in Harry's shoulder just as his arms tighten around her. They're seeking comfort in each other, searching for solace.

They'll be okay. It might take a while, but they'll be okay. As long as they have each other.

Come to the darkness, Ginevra. Come to the darkness…

Scarlet eyes gleam through the pitch-black darkness. A snake hisses ominously. She takes a step back, only for her foot to find air. She rocks precariously, trying to find her balance, but to no avail…

… She tips backwards, her arms pinwheeling. A piercing scream leaves her mouth, and then the hands of darkness curl around her…

…Ginny bolts upright, her forehead matted with sweat and her mouth open in a soundless wail. Her roommates are sound asleep, blissfully unaware of her plight.

She tries to calm her rapidly beating heart, to grasp at some semblance of sanity.

It's just a dream, she tells herself. It's only a dream.

But the foreboding feeling in her gut isn't reassuring.

She's standing in an empty room, dimly lit and disquieting. There are two doors on either side of it , one painted red, the other black.

"Hello?" she tries, but her voice merely ricochets off the the walls and around the room.

Hm. Better try the doors, then.

She reaches for the knob of the red door, turns it, and cracks it open.

Nothing happens, so she opens it a bit more.

That's when all hell breaks loose.

Red liquid, thick and rancid, crashes through the door, buffeting her with an indescribable amount of force. It churns around her legs, rising steadily, filling the room. Only by its smell can she recognize the substance.

It's blood.

She screams and runs — well, wades — as fast as she can to the other door, which she hopes is an escape.

That's a mistake on her part.

She yanks the door open and stumbles into the room beyond, slamming the door behind her. The door, she notices with relief, is solid enough to keep the tide of blood at bay.

But her nightmare isn't over yet.

A light turns on of its own accord — it's faint, like the one in the previous room — and she proceeds forward warily, her eyes and ears alert and testing the ground before she steps on it.

And then, she sees the coffins, each marked with a name. The first one says Arthur Weasley.

She gasps and lets her eyes roam over the coffins' lids, each name somehow more ominous than the next. Molly. William. Fred. George. Ron.

The last one is marked Harry Potter.

This is all your fault, a voice says abruptly, chillingly, and it startles her. You could've prevented their deaths. But no, you selfishly let them sacrifice their lives. You're a coward.

The word coward rings throughout the room and she —

She wakes up, trembling violently, her sheets damp with sweat.

GInny shivers uncontrollably for a few minutes, feverishly recalling her vivid dream — the tide of blood, the coffins — and ultimately comes to the conclusion that she can't go back to sleep. Especially not after an alarming nightmare like that.

(She's had several nightmares before, but they weren't this disturbing.)

After debating for a few minutes, she decides to head downstairs — maybe she can ask one of the house-elves for a cup of hot cocoa or find comfort in curling up by the fire.

But instead, she finds company. Harry Potter is alone on the couch in front of the fireplace, his eyes shut and a grimace on his face.

"Hey," she says softly.

His eyes open to reveal pensive emerald eyes, dull and untextured. They brighten just a bit as she sits next to him. "Hey."

"Why are you up so late?" she asks.

"Why are you?" he counters.

She sighs. "Nightmare," she admits heavily. "You?"

Harry leans back, his lips turning down into a frown. "Same here."

Ginny bites her lip, thinking. Then, she takes a leap of faith. "Did you…" she begins tentatively. "Did you… dream about the Chamber — ?"

"...Yeah," Harry confesses after a brief silence. "I mean not about the Chamber, but, y'know…"

"I know." Ginny nods. "So did I."

"Mine was terrifying," he adds. "I just saw… what would've happened had I not been able to get into the Chamber. It scared me to death."

Ginny's mouth goes dry. She'd thought about that outcome so many times, and Harry saying it makes it feel so real. She had been on the brink of death and had he not arrived when he did, slayed that basilisk, destroyed the diary — she would've been somewhere else, somewhere that is not here.

It reminds her how lucky she is, to be alive and have some support, some mutual understanding of what she's going through.

It gives her some eye-opening clarity.

"I think about it sometimes," Ginny says wearily. "But sometimes, I remember that in the end, I didn't die. You did save me."

A ghost of a smile flickers on his face. "That's an optimistic way of looking at it."

"I'm trying not to focus on the 'what-ifs'," she adds. "Believe or not, I realized that just now."

Harry chuckles. "Y'know, you're a good person, Ginny," he tells her honestly.

"Don't tell my brothers that."

The nightmares stop.

Assignment 4 - Biosciences, Task 2 - Serotonin: Write about someone with depression or anxiety.

Pinata Cub - Hard - Order

Feline Fair - Scottish Fold: hurt/comfort.

Insane House - 518. Action: Screaming