I wrote this over Christmas break last year, but never got around to
uploading it. I ran across it today while cleaning out my files and
thought it deserved to be posted. It was written pre-OotP, so I suppose
it's classified AU. The story takes place during Christmas break fifth
year.
All characters, places, and magic belong to JK Rowling. The plot belongs to me. :)
Understood
Harry Potter just wanted to be alone.
He hadn't thought he would, because for so long he had been depending on Ron and Hermione's constant presence to keep him sane. They were doing a wonderful job, and there were some things he just didn't want to remember.
But after that encounter with the dementors. Harry realized that there were some things he would never forget. The aftereffects of being near dementors were still weighing hard on him. He had several chocolate bars tucked in his robes, but he had yet to touch them.
As he wandered the halls, he had to wonder just where he was going. He had left the Marauder's Map (a Christmas present from an anonymous donor) back in the room with Ron. There was nowhere he could hide.
The only place he could think to go - well, Hagrid's cabin was not nearly so cozy without Hagrid in it. He hurried past several corridors before he heard something that made him pause. Someone was crying. Curious, since most of the students were home for the holidays, Harry headed down the short hallway. Towards the end, sitting on a windowsill with her legs tucked up to her chest and her face buried in her knees, was Ginny Weasley.
"Ginny?" She looked up, startled. Nearly as startled as Harry felt. He wanted to be alone; the last thing he felt qualified to do now was help work out someone else's problems.
"Harry," she replied in a shaky voice. She wiped her face with her arm, her face beginning to turn pink. "What are you doing here?"
He shrugged, tucking his hands into the pockets of his robes. "I was trying to find a place to be alone."
"And I took your spot?" she asked miserably. Harry frowned.
"Ginny, what's wrong?"
She said nothing for a long while, the occasional shuddering sob the only sound in the hall. Finally she seemed to be in control of herself enough to speak.
"It was the dementors," she shivered violently. "I can't seem to get them out of my head."
Immediately, Harry pulled out some chocolate from his robes. "Here," he handed a chunk to her. "This will help."
But Ginny pushed his hand away. "I can't."
"But it'll help. You'll feel better."
"I don't want to feel better," she whispered fiercely.
Harry stood in front of her for a moment, trying to work out what to do. Then, screwing up his courage, he sat down at the other end of the sill.
"I know what you mean," he replied thoughtfully. "When I first ran into dementors, I used to hear my mum dying to protect me. And as much as I hated to hear it, in some strange way I relished in it. After all, it was the only time I'd ever heard her voice."
"Oh, Harry." she breathed. Taking a deep breath, he continued.
"But then, this time - it was different. I mean, my mum was there, but so was - Cedric. And Voldemort. It was horrible. And this time it was worse, because I knew I deserved to be hearing it."
"That wasn't your fault," she said, her eyes trained on his face. "You- Know-Who killed Cedric." She closed her eyes and added bitterly, "You had nothing to do with it."
Harry leaned forward in shock, suddenly understanding. "Is this about the diary?"
"It was horrible." She was crying again. "I kept seeing Colin and Hermione and everyone lying in those beds, and I heard - Tom, telling me to... And you, you're nearly dead trying to save me, and the blood and the roosters and the basilisk and." Her voice was finally lost in her sobs.
Harry felt lost. He wanted to do something, but he had no experience with this sort of thing. Ron and Hermione were usually the ones comforting him, not the other way around. It crossed his mind briefly to bring the two of them here to make things better for Ginny, but he quickly dismissed that idea. He wanted to be the one helping for a change; he liked feeling useful.
"Ginny," he began awkwardly, "No one blames you for what happened. You had no way of knowing what you were doing--"
"But I should have!" she broke in fiercely. "I should have been able to stop it!"
"Sometimes there are things you cannot stop, no matter what you do. You can't blame yourself for those things."
Ginny laughed bitterly, her voice still choked with sobs. "You're one to talk."
Harry's mouth fell open, then closed just as quickly. She was right. He was being a hypocrite.
With magnamious effort, Ginny stilled her tears and gazed at him with her bloodshot, troubled eyes.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, but she didn't sound sorry. Her voice was even, controlled, distant.
"For what?"
She stared out the window and answered in a voice so soft Harry could barely make it out.
"I never thanked you for saving me."
"Oh, that..." Harry's face reddened. This wasn't a subject he wanted to bring up anytime soon. "Well, you're welcome."
Ginny continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I suppose at first it was because I was too caught up in the emotion of the moment -- you know, the fear and horror and such. But then, I started to wish you hadn't ever come. That you had just left me to die."
"I couldn't do that!"
She turned and smiled at him tenderly, all traces of bitterness gone. "No, you wouldn't have been able to leave me." When Harry's face grew even redder, she averted her gaze and sighed. "What a pair we make."
"What?" Harry answered a bit too quickly.
"We're both too lost in our guilt to live out our lives. It's such a depressing existence."
He furrowed his brow and leaned back into the wall. "Do you think it'll always be this way?"
Ginny shut her eyes tightly, as if trying to ward off an unfriendly memory. "I just wish I could forgive myself!"
"And what if you don't deserve forgiveness?" he asked bitterly. She shrugged.
"I still wish I could."
They sat in silence for several moments, both lost in their memories.
"Harry," Ginny finally said, "What was it like to see him die?"
He didn't want to answer, but before he could stop himself he had begun to speak.
"Like a dream -- a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. It didn't seem real, but at the same time it was too real. I felt like I was moving through water. And then everything happened so quickly, there was no time to remember anything but the moment when the curse hit him."
"What was he like?"
"Brave. Even to the end, he was--"
"Not Cedric." Her eyes were frightened, but she pressed on. "What was You- Know-Who like?"
"Ginny..."
"Please, Harry. I want to know."
"He... he was evil. Hateful. I was afraid. I couldn't believe that he was real again until he touched me. He doesn't look alive. More like a dementor on a bad day. At least, that's how it felt to me."
She nodded, as if understanding completely. "I just remember feeling cold, like I'd never be warm again. And..."
She stopped suddenly, peering over his shoulder at the entrance of the hall.
"Harry, there you are!" Ron's voice echoed off the walls. "Up for a game of chess?"
The mood was broken. Harry caught Ginny's eyes once more and there was understanding in her gaze. It was comforting to him, even if it did not take away his guilt or pain.
"That would be great, Ron," he forced a smile as he turned around. Strangely enough, he meant it. Thinking about last year always made him tired. Being around Ron and Hermione made it all better.
And Ginny -- she understood. That made all the difference.
All characters, places, and magic belong to JK Rowling. The plot belongs to me. :)
Understood
Harry Potter just wanted to be alone.
He hadn't thought he would, because for so long he had been depending on Ron and Hermione's constant presence to keep him sane. They were doing a wonderful job, and there were some things he just didn't want to remember.
But after that encounter with the dementors. Harry realized that there were some things he would never forget. The aftereffects of being near dementors were still weighing hard on him. He had several chocolate bars tucked in his robes, but he had yet to touch them.
As he wandered the halls, he had to wonder just where he was going. He had left the Marauder's Map (a Christmas present from an anonymous donor) back in the room with Ron. There was nowhere he could hide.
The only place he could think to go - well, Hagrid's cabin was not nearly so cozy without Hagrid in it. He hurried past several corridors before he heard something that made him pause. Someone was crying. Curious, since most of the students were home for the holidays, Harry headed down the short hallway. Towards the end, sitting on a windowsill with her legs tucked up to her chest and her face buried in her knees, was Ginny Weasley.
"Ginny?" She looked up, startled. Nearly as startled as Harry felt. He wanted to be alone; the last thing he felt qualified to do now was help work out someone else's problems.
"Harry," she replied in a shaky voice. She wiped her face with her arm, her face beginning to turn pink. "What are you doing here?"
He shrugged, tucking his hands into the pockets of his robes. "I was trying to find a place to be alone."
"And I took your spot?" she asked miserably. Harry frowned.
"Ginny, what's wrong?"
She said nothing for a long while, the occasional shuddering sob the only sound in the hall. Finally she seemed to be in control of herself enough to speak.
"It was the dementors," she shivered violently. "I can't seem to get them out of my head."
Immediately, Harry pulled out some chocolate from his robes. "Here," he handed a chunk to her. "This will help."
But Ginny pushed his hand away. "I can't."
"But it'll help. You'll feel better."
"I don't want to feel better," she whispered fiercely.
Harry stood in front of her for a moment, trying to work out what to do. Then, screwing up his courage, he sat down at the other end of the sill.
"I know what you mean," he replied thoughtfully. "When I first ran into dementors, I used to hear my mum dying to protect me. And as much as I hated to hear it, in some strange way I relished in it. After all, it was the only time I'd ever heard her voice."
"Oh, Harry." she breathed. Taking a deep breath, he continued.
"But then, this time - it was different. I mean, my mum was there, but so was - Cedric. And Voldemort. It was horrible. And this time it was worse, because I knew I deserved to be hearing it."
"That wasn't your fault," she said, her eyes trained on his face. "You- Know-Who killed Cedric." She closed her eyes and added bitterly, "You had nothing to do with it."
Harry leaned forward in shock, suddenly understanding. "Is this about the diary?"
"It was horrible." She was crying again. "I kept seeing Colin and Hermione and everyone lying in those beds, and I heard - Tom, telling me to... And you, you're nearly dead trying to save me, and the blood and the roosters and the basilisk and." Her voice was finally lost in her sobs.
Harry felt lost. He wanted to do something, but he had no experience with this sort of thing. Ron and Hermione were usually the ones comforting him, not the other way around. It crossed his mind briefly to bring the two of them here to make things better for Ginny, but he quickly dismissed that idea. He wanted to be the one helping for a change; he liked feeling useful.
"Ginny," he began awkwardly, "No one blames you for what happened. You had no way of knowing what you were doing--"
"But I should have!" she broke in fiercely. "I should have been able to stop it!"
"Sometimes there are things you cannot stop, no matter what you do. You can't blame yourself for those things."
Ginny laughed bitterly, her voice still choked with sobs. "You're one to talk."
Harry's mouth fell open, then closed just as quickly. She was right. He was being a hypocrite.
With magnamious effort, Ginny stilled her tears and gazed at him with her bloodshot, troubled eyes.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, but she didn't sound sorry. Her voice was even, controlled, distant.
"For what?"
She stared out the window and answered in a voice so soft Harry could barely make it out.
"I never thanked you for saving me."
"Oh, that..." Harry's face reddened. This wasn't a subject he wanted to bring up anytime soon. "Well, you're welcome."
Ginny continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I suppose at first it was because I was too caught up in the emotion of the moment -- you know, the fear and horror and such. But then, I started to wish you hadn't ever come. That you had just left me to die."
"I couldn't do that!"
She turned and smiled at him tenderly, all traces of bitterness gone. "No, you wouldn't have been able to leave me." When Harry's face grew even redder, she averted her gaze and sighed. "What a pair we make."
"What?" Harry answered a bit too quickly.
"We're both too lost in our guilt to live out our lives. It's such a depressing existence."
He furrowed his brow and leaned back into the wall. "Do you think it'll always be this way?"
Ginny shut her eyes tightly, as if trying to ward off an unfriendly memory. "I just wish I could forgive myself!"
"And what if you don't deserve forgiveness?" he asked bitterly. She shrugged.
"I still wish I could."
They sat in silence for several moments, both lost in their memories.
"Harry," Ginny finally said, "What was it like to see him die?"
He didn't want to answer, but before he could stop himself he had begun to speak.
"Like a dream -- a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. It didn't seem real, but at the same time it was too real. I felt like I was moving through water. And then everything happened so quickly, there was no time to remember anything but the moment when the curse hit him."
"What was he like?"
"Brave. Even to the end, he was--"
"Not Cedric." Her eyes were frightened, but she pressed on. "What was You- Know-Who like?"
"Ginny..."
"Please, Harry. I want to know."
"He... he was evil. Hateful. I was afraid. I couldn't believe that he was real again until he touched me. He doesn't look alive. More like a dementor on a bad day. At least, that's how it felt to me."
She nodded, as if understanding completely. "I just remember feeling cold, like I'd never be warm again. And..."
She stopped suddenly, peering over his shoulder at the entrance of the hall.
"Harry, there you are!" Ron's voice echoed off the walls. "Up for a game of chess?"
The mood was broken. Harry caught Ginny's eyes once more and there was understanding in her gaze. It was comforting to him, even if it did not take away his guilt or pain.
"That would be great, Ron," he forced a smile as he turned around. Strangely enough, he meant it. Thinking about last year always made him tired. Being around Ron and Hermione made it all better.
And Ginny -- she understood. That made all the difference.