Disclaimer: None of it's mine, it's all J. K. Rowlings. No profit is being made, nor is that the intent. I'm just playing around.
A/N: I was just in the mood for a bit of fic. Nothing fancy, nothing particularly beta'd, edited or spell-checked for that matter. You may enjoy. Or don't. Whatever floats your boat.
Harry Potter stared blankly out of his window, hardly noticing the raindrops that were striking the glass at such high speed it sounded like hail. This storm was Voldemort's way of messing with his head, Harry knew it. Of course the Muggle meteorologists were stunned. They'd never seen a storm, especially not a storm this ferocious, so locally. For 8 days straight the storm had been ravaging Little Whinging, and it hadn't moved or lessened its strength.
No, the storm was staying put, just as Voldemort was biding his time, waiting for Harry to leave the safety of his aunt and uncle's house.
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia knew this storm was because of Harry, how could they not? But the chose to ignore it, which suited Harry just fine.
In the days since he'd returned from Hogwarts for the summer, he'd barely seen his aunt, uncle or cousin. He preferred to stay up in his room, now with Hedwig as a full-time companion.
He'd sent her out once, just after he'd arrived, with letters to Ron and Hermione. They were both at the Burrow. The storm had just started brewing then, but it was nowhere as bad as it was now. Harry had thought nothing of it at the time, thought it was just a regular summer storm. By the time Hedwig had managed to make it back, carrying his friends' replies and looking extremely ruffled an put-out, he knew differently.
He'd wondered at times if Voldemort knew where he went over the summer. He should have known that he'd be hard pressed to keep anything a secret from that particular wizard. Of course he knew! Just because he couldn't touch Harry there didn't mean the place was Unplottable.
Harry guessed this was probably also Voldemort's way of celebrating, of rubbing Harry's nose in his victory over Dumbledore. Harry snorted. It wasn't like Voldemort had anything to do with Dumbledore's…
He swallowed the lump in his throat. Stupid, stupid feelings! Dumbledore's… Dumbledore's death! There. He'd thought it. Ron, Hermione and he had discussed it on the Hogwart's Express, as it carried them back to London. Hermione had argued two reasons why Snape had killed the Headmaster, Ron and Harry only saw one probable possibility. It wasn't very difficult either; Snape had never become a double-spy. Instead, he'd become a triple one. He didn't spy on the Death Eaters for Dumbledore while Voldemort thought he was still loyal, he'd spied on the Order while Dumbledore thought he'd come over to their side, thought he felt remorse for causing the death of Harry's parents.
Hermione had feebly attempted to argue a case where Snape only did what he did to save his own life, and perhaps that of Malfoy as well. She'd even brought up the Unbreakable Vow, something she hadn't wanted to believe after Harry related the exchange between Snape and Malfoy over Christmas, but was completely willing to use for her own cause now. Harry and Ron had simply ignored her.
Dumbledore had fallen simply because he'd wanted to protect Harry, because he'd been weakened in the cave, and because Snape had decided to reveal his betrayal at Dumbledore's most vulnerable time.
The storm was most certainly Voldemort celebrating, and in the process he'd managed to cut Harry off from everyone who meant anything to him. Hedwig refused to go outside, Errol and Pigwidgeon would be blown away before they even attempted to make it through the storm, and even the phone lines had given way in the end.
Two days after he'd returned from Hogwarts Dudley had stormed into Harry's room looking positively Confuzzled, telling him that there was a girl on the phone, asking to speak to Harry Potter. Harry could scarcely believe it himself, and he'd warily made his way down the stairs, wondering if perhaps this was some sort of joke on Dudley's part. But when he'd picked up the phone he knew the girl had definitely been asking for him.
"Ouch, Ron, no, MOVE! That's my foot you're standing on."
"Don't look at me like that, you're not the one who has to smush his face up to the window to fit in this thing! I don't know how Muggles stand this!"
"That's because they're usually in these things alone, and not with a 6 ft buffoon on their toes! MOVE!"
Despite himself, Harry grinned. Some things never changed.
"Hello, Hermione"
"Oh, Harry! Hi! Ron, it's Harry, say hi."
"HI HARRY! WE'RE USING THE FELLYTONE!"
"Ron! I already told you there's no need to shout! So, how are you doing, Harry?"
Harry didn't really know what to say. How was he doing? How could he be doing? Any type of hopeful feeling he'd had back at Hogwarts had quickly deserted him when he arrived back at Privet Drive, and when the storm had started.
"I'm okay. I'm fine, really. How's… How's…" Harry couldn't finish his sentence. Not after what he'd done (even though his still fully supported his own decision) and not with Ron listening in.
"How's Ginny?" Hermione said. Harry could almost hear her smirking. "She's still mad as a banshee, Harry, what did you think?"
"Okay… Well, that's good then." Harry felt awkward. He didn't really know what to say.
"Listen, Harry. We read about the storm, and we figured there'd be no way of contacting you the regular way, which is why we phoned. Do you know yet when you'll be leaving?"
"July 31st, my birthday, I s'pose." Harry really didn't want to think about that yet. As much as he hated Privet Drive, knowing that he'd be without protection after he turned 17 was a bit too much to bear at the moment.
"I thought as much," Hermione said. "Listen to me. The protection ends the moment you turn 17. That means leaving on your birthday will be too risky. Leave when he won't expect you to, say, the 29th? That way we could also celebrate your birthday WITH you for a change."
"Yeah, well, we'll see, okay? Listen, Uncle Vernon's looking at me funny. Gotta go now, thanks for calling. Bye."
Harry didn't listen for any reply from the other end before he hung up the phone. Uncle Vernon wasn't looking at Harry, he wasn't even paying any attention to him, seeing as he wasn't in the same room. He couldn't quite put his finger on it the feeling, but he knew he didn't really want to talk to his friends at the moment.
Soon after that call the phone went dead, and Harry was left alone with his own thoughts. As much as he wanted to think about defeating Voldemort, finding the missing Horcruxes, R.A.B. and the loss of Dumbledore, he often found himself preoccupied with much more… trivial thoughts.
He thought of Ginny. He thought of the time they'd spent together at the lake. He thought of the look on her face when he told he they were through. He thought of what he might be doing now. And now. And right now.
Harry's mind snapped back to the present. He glanced at his alarm clock before continuing to gaze out his window. It was only 5 in the afternoon, yet it looked like the sun had just set. With the rain and the darkness it was difficult to even make out the other side of the street. He'd almost gotten used to it. "Voldemort's no idiot" Harry thought glumly to himself. Even though the weather wasn't exactly depressing him, it was doing nothing to lift his mood either.
Harry looked on with interest as the wind lifted the lid of the neighbour's dustbin, and drove it through the street. But then… That was odd. The lid shot off in a direction completely opposed to his previous path. Harry squinted, trying to see through the rain and darkness. He could not see anything, and yet.. He had a strange feeling about this. Then, he saw a small figure steadily making its way up the street. "Who in their right mind would go out in this?" he thought to himself. Even Uncle Vernon was working from home at the moment.
He shouted a useless warning when a branch tore away from the tree across the street and hurtled straight at the figure. He saw the person raise their hand, and the branch changed its path.
Harry grabbed his wand. Surely this person, whoever they were, was not a Muggle. He couldn't make out a face, even though the figure was now quite close to the house, as it was wearing a large cloak, and its face was concealed by a hood. The figure made its way up the path to the house, and rang the doorbell. Harry stormed out of his room, and crouched low on the landing. Aunt Petunia bustled from the kitchen, muttering things like 'Probably some sales person. They never know when to stop". Harry pointed his wand at the door. As much as he didn't think Voldemort would ring the doorbell (and granted, the figure had been much too small to be Voldemort) there was no reason to be trusting.
Aunt Petunia opened the door, and he knew she was speaking to whomever it was standing on the other side, but he couldn't make out her voice or the other person's through the howling wind.
Soon, Aunt Petunia stepped aside to let the person in. They moved gracefully into the hall, and removed their hood to show a head of blazing red hair.
'Ginny,' he gasped.
She looked up. 'Hello, Harry.' She gave him a weak, uncomfortable sort of smile.
Harry stormed back into his room.
How could she! What on earth was she doing here? Didn't she understand this was dangerous? That she was a sitting duck out there? How could Mrs Weasley have let this happen? He threw himself on his bed.
The door opened, and in walked Ginny. 'It's lovely to see you too, Harry. Such a welcome is too much, really. You could have just had me at hello.'
'What… I mean… Why? Why are you here, Ginny? I thought I'd made myself perfectly clear two weeks ago.'
'Oh, did you really think so, Harry? Because honestly, I think I need to hear it one more time.'
Harry seethed. Didn't she understand? Didn't she comprehend the fact that he was trying to protect her? That he didn't want things to end, but that he'd had no choice?
He threw her a furious look. She glanced at him, and sat down on his desk chair. Quietly she muttered a spell and started drying her clothes.
'You can't do magic! You're not allowed, and especially not here! I'm still underage, you know!'
Ginny looked as though she was trying to stop herself from rolling her eyes. 'Yes, because I'm sure the Ministry has nothing better to do at the moment than bringing in The Chosen One on grounds of performing underage magic.'
'You don't know that! How would you know that! You know nothing!' Harry regretted the words the moment they left his mouth.
Ginny looked hurt for a moment, then just said quietly, 'Of course. I know nothing. I know nothing of danger. I know nothing of friendship. I know nothing of loyalty. I don't know a thing. That is why I always trusted you, why I went with you to save Sirius, why I fought so hard to keep the Death Eaters at bay just a few weeks ago. It's because I know nothing. If that thought makes you feel better about yourself, then fine.'
A few minutes of silence followed. Silence in which Ginny just looked at Harry, while his mind was working furiously to come up with a proper response.
'I… I didn't mean it like that. You know that. It's just… You shouldn't be here. With you here, I can't think straight. I can't focus. I need to focus.'
'Yes, Harry, I know that. You need to focus on the task at hand. I just don't believe that's what you've been doing all this time.'
Harry felt his face redden. She couldn't possibly know what he'd been doing. Could she? Hastily, he pushed the sock that was lying on the ground under the bed with his foot. There, that hadn't been too conspicuous. Harry glanced at Ginny, sitting at his desk looking quite calm. And, perhaps, a tiny bit amused. 'Oh, sod it!' he thought.
'You can't know what I've been doing,' he said smugly. 'I'm sure your mother hasn't let you out of her sight since you returned.
'True enough,' Ginny said. 'She's kept us all on a tight leash, under the pretence of needing our help with the wedding preparations. But I know enough. For example, I know you didn't want to talk to Ron and Hermione over the phone.'
'How… I mean, that's not true! I did talk to them!'
'Oh, come off it Harry. I share a room with Hermione, and you know she's not stupid. You didn't want to talk to them because you don't want to think about leaving. You don't want to think about what you need to do, and I can't say that I blame you. If I were you, I'd probably curl up into a little ball, and hide under my bed.'
'But you're not me, are you!' Harry bellowed. 'Because if you were me, you'd know that having you here, being near you, only makes it harder.'
'Does it now?' Ginny grinned cheekily.
'What.. Oh!' Harry blushed, but quickly recovered. 'Come off it now, Gin, you know what I mean!'
'I think…' she said carefully, 'I think I get what you are trying to do. I just don't think it's working. Which is why I'm here.'
'Why are you here, Ginny?'
'To get you to focus.' She stood up swiftly and sat down on the bed next to Harry, before he could figure out what was happening and make a counter-move.
'Focus,' Harry said. 'Excuse me, but how exactly would that work? Because it isn't working right now.'
Harry couldn't really think straight. He could smell her hair. It smelled like freshly mowed grass. Their knees were touching and he felt her warmth radiating through the leg of his jeans. If this was her idea of getting him to focus, he wondered what tactics she might use to distract him.
'I'm here, Harry,' she turned to him put her hands on the sides of his face, turning it so he was facing her, 'I'm here to tell you that I'm here. I've been here, and I'll be here.'
Harry found it hard to concentrate on what she was saying, mesmerized as he was by the tiny flecks of gold in her eyes.
'Huh?' was all he managed to say.
'I understand, Harry. I understand that you don't need the extra worry that is me. I understand that you need to do something that I can't help you with. As much as I'd like to help you, as much as I want to help you, I know that you won't let me. And I know that you don't need me. Not in that way, at least.'
'Right,' Harry sighed. Her scent was intoxicating. And her lips! He just loved the way they moved when she talked.
'But you do need me, Harry. I know you have feelings for me, and I'm quite sure you can't just switch those off. So it doesn't matter if we are together or not, the danger would be the same.'
The word 'danger' had snapped Harry out of his trance-like state. 'Yeah, danger!' he said, jumping up from the bed. 'Being with me puts you in danger!'
Ginny rose from the bed too and firmly grasped his shoulders, forcing him once again to look her in the eye. 'That's what I'm trying to tell you, Harry. It doesn't matter if we are together or not. If a Death Eater, or V… V… Voldemort finds out that you have feelings for me, I'll be in danger anyway. They won't care if we're together or not, as long as they can hurt you.'
Harry looked away.
'No, Harry, listen! Look at me! I've thought about this, alright? Ron and Hermione can be your wingmen. I just want to be there.'
'Wingmen?' Harry looked at Ginny as though he never saw her before in his life.
'We watched Top Gun in Muggle Studies, okay? Totally besides the point. Did you not hear me? I'm not asking anything of you. I've thought about this a lot, and I won't be a bother. I won't pester you for details about what you're doing, or when, or how. I won't demand that you take me along with Ron and Hermione. I just want you to know that –'
'You're here,' Harry interrupted.
'Yes,' Ginny sighed. 'I'm here. And you can stop worrying about me. I'm here, and you will come to The Burrow with me, and we'll spend some time together.'
Harry squirmed.
'When you're not with Ron and Hermione, figuring out how to.. you know… do stuff,' Ginny said quickly, misunderstanding Harry's body language.
'Do stuff?' Harry said. 'Like, perhaps, this stuff?'
He moved in slowly, and softly kissed her lips. Her lovely, full, usually moving lips. They parted slightly, and he quickly deepened the kiss. He felt the familiar monster in his chest purr contentedly as Ginny responded.
After an unknown amount of time she broke free of his embrace and looked at him. He'd never seen that look on her face before. She pulled him close again, planting kisses all over his neck and behind his ear. Then, and this was new, she nibbled on his earlobe and pulled him down onto the bed. And Harry knew that whatever he'd have to face later on, whatever he'd need to do, there was still some happiness left in his world.