Disclaimer: Don't sue, at this moment in time my net worth is in pennies.
Who Knows?
Harry Potter, the boy who lived (many times over), bolted awake trying to forget the sound of a cruel, high laugh in his ears. Adrenaline pumped through his sleep fatigued muscles and made his pupils widen in the dark to see more of the area around him. He had bought a book on sleep deprivation and what it could do to you in a muggle shop. There was something in it about going insane; he was beginning to think the author had a point.
Tiredly, he sunk back into his bed in Gryffindor dorm and stared at the ceiling till his eyelids drooped ever closer to sleep. His mother's voice cried out sharply, "Please no! Take me! No!" He shot awake again. "This is no way to live," he grumbled before throwing back the heavy, scarlet comforter, the blackout drapes and crawling out of the large four-poster. He dug underneath his pillow for his wand and picture album. Pulling both out he shuffled down stairs to the common room.
The night sky sparkled brightly as he looked out the windows, and the walls danced merrily from the emerald green fire, which sparkled cheerfully in the Gryffindor hearth. Choosing a chair nearest to the flames he settled himself in it, arranging his wand so it was close by if he needed to grab it for any reason, and thumbed the album open.
He stared at the pictures of his parents. Picnics, parties, their wedding and holding a tiny baby Harry at a hospital with a beaming Sirius and Remus with their arms slung around his mother, (the picture was from Remus for Harry's birthday). He kept staring at everything for what seemed an eternity before finally coming to a page that had more recent memories. A picture of him, Ron and Hermione sometime at the Burrow over the summer going into second year waved heartily at him. There was a second one, which was a clipping of Ron's family in Egypt before the start of their third year. And the summer after…he found a picture of all the Weasleys -- all seven children along with parents -- with Hermione and Harry on either side of Ron, just before they went to the Quidditch World Cup.
Finally he reached the recent year, there was this summer's picture, the summer before fifth year. Ron and Harry were playing chess in the foreground, Ron's chess pieces alive and winning as always while in the background was Hermione, nose in a book, sitting on a couch absentmindedly stroking a very sated looking Crookshanks who was chewing on what appeared to be a little gnome boot.
He flipped open a second page looking for more and found an envelope. On it was written 'To Harry.' Curious, he opened the envelope and found a note inside, it was written in careful, neat, small writing, which he could easily define as Hermione's. He leaned forward to read in the firelight,
Dear Harry,
Yes, it is Hermione but no, I didn't go through your things…Ginny did. Okay, so she didn't and she's screaming at me to rephrase that. Oh, don't give me that scrunched-nose look (Harry was scrunching his nose, now that he thought about it), you were a zombie when we came into Ron's room, you were just staring out the window doing nothing. Gin' and I saw your book open and figured that the pictures we were setting up to give you would be a nice surprise if just slipped into your album. And no, we haven't and won't look, these are copies of the pictures I had developed for my parents, we hope you like them.
Love from,
Hermione and Ginny
These were the pictures that Hermione had taken, then had developed. She had a muggle and though so it didn't have the moving pictures, she treasured it because her parents had given it to her as a Christmas present. Hermione's father had taken up developing and told her to send the film back to him so he could develop it, she'd gone a bit mad, taking pictures of almost anything. He began to flip through them; there was a picture of Ron in a frozen argument with Percy sitting at the kitchen table in the Burrow. One with Fred and George sneaking something into a Slytherin trunk at Platform 9 and three-quarters, and there was one with a skirmish Quidditch game with the Twins, Ron, Harry and Charlie who was in visiting from Romania. They were all streaking around in the sky like blurred bullets.
He found an image of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley smiling fondly out a window staring at a sun set, Mrs. Weasley wrapped in Mr. Weasley's arms. The light shone golden on them, highlighting the streaks of white that began to appear in their hair. Behind them the kitchen was cast in golden light, with shadows in the corners, the old worn Weasley table scrubbed clean and bare, the chairs around it showing the family which existed, no matter where it was in the world. The light made their faces look both happy and youthful in the sun, while older and more matured with the shadows behind them. Harry swallowed an unexpected lump in his throat and shuffled the pictures around, putting them away.
He stretched out in the chair, throwing his legs over the side and hugging the photo album to his chest, he watched the flames till his eyes started to droop closed, soft, foggy peace was flowing over him. Harry yawned and snuggled into the chair more, it was warm, he was comfortable -- he was tied to a headstone marked 'TOM RIDDLE' watching a fully formed Voldemort rise from the cauldron at his feet. He stared in horror, wishing desperately that he could do something, Voldemort was raising his wand, laughing high and cruel and calling his name…"Harry…" He squirmed away, trying to hide, he wanted to hide so badly, he wanted to scream and cry "Harry…." and have his mother hold him close so that he'd always be safe. But no, he'd never be safe, never. Voldemort's face grew near, Harry could smell hot, putrid breath mixed with something soft which gradually became something like…mint? "Harry! Harry, wake up!"
He shot awake and found himself staring into Ginny Weasley's concerned brown eyes. Harry swallowed hard and found that he was gripping her hand tightly. He also found he didn't want to let go. "G-Ginny, what are you doing awake at this hour?" She raised her eyebrows, "Harry, what are you doing sleeping in the common room without a blanket? It's almost freezing down here…" she gestured at the dwindling fire. He swallowed, "oh? I hadn't noticed. It was warm when I came down." Ginny watched him with solemn brown eyes, "you've been dreaming about him. Haven't you?" Harry stared at her; no one had ever been direct with him before on the subject of Voldemort. Not Sirius, not Ron, not Mr. or Mrs. Weasley, not Hermione, and Dumbledore only when necessary. "Harry. You've been dreaming of Tom, haven't you?" His eyes looked up and met her's, they were wide and worried, almost doe like. "Tom?" he asked uncertainly. She nodded, "Tom Riddle, the boy before the monster? Though I think you dream more about the monster aspect." Her eyebrows twitched into a frown and her fingers came up to his face, flipping a piece of hair out of his eyes, then resting her hand on his forehead. "You've got a temperature, you know."
Harry was frozen. This was not Ginny Weasley, no way could this be her; she was the one who couldn't be in his presence without blushing. Harry was sure his cheeks were reddening, at least. Suddenly he felt an intense urge to hug her and just cry into her shoulder. To sob and tell her everything, everything with Voldemort, with the dreams, with Cedric, even the dream he'd gotten over the summer. Which he hadn't mentioned to anyone except Sirius and Professor Dumbledore upon receiving the dream and getting to Hogwarts, each circumstance to their own person.
"Harry?" Ginny looked worried now, she shouldn't be worried, Ginny was too nice to be worried. He was still holding tight to her hand; he focused on it, like a drowning man would focus on the image of a life preserver. "Harry?" Higher, more worried. "Harry!" she finally cried. His eyes snapped to hers, "Gin'?" his voice rasped out, like it needed water. She looked at him with a stern glint in her eyes, though her body was marred with worry lines, her free hand came up and hugged him close while he gave into tears. He didn't know why he was crying, he'd only meant to let go of her hand, explain in a rational voice that he was quite fine and just needed to get away from Neville's snores to sleep better and that she shouldn't worry herself. But now he was sobbing like a child, into his best friend's sister's shoulder.
Ginny was cooing words to him, he just held onto her for life, as if he let go that he'd die. When he stopped crying, he realized she was rocking him back and forth gently, smoothing his hair back, and he was sitting on the floor, head nestled into her shoulder, still holding her hand.
"Ginny?" he whispered quietly. "Mmmmhmmm?" she kept stroking his hair, almost like Mrs. Weasley had done at the end of fourth year as he sat in the infirmary, dying of shock and guilt. "I'm sorry I got your nightgown wet…" Ginny giggled and hugged him, he couldn't help smiling slightly, she was wonderful he realized. They sat for a moment, she was resting against the chair now, and he was being held like a baby, drawing in her wonderful scent of cooking spices. Cinnamon, nutmeg and something else that was sweet and tangy, something he'd smelled before. He rested against her, drinking in everything gentle and pure around her, like the unicorns Hagrid had showed his Care of Magical Creatures class in fourth year.
"Harry…?" He yawned, "yes?" She was hesitating on asking something, she didn't want to frighten him, how could he not have noticed how wonderful she was? "Harry," she paused. "You dream about him, don't you?" On any other circumstance Harry would have zoned to the rebirth of Voldemort, his voice, or the way he moved or his snake-red eyes. But now…
"Every night since I left Hogwarts," he found himself saying. "Dumbledore gave me something to drink that caused dreamless sleep and Siri--" he broke off abruptly and swallowed. "My godfather sent me the same potion as a birthday present with an apology note. He was sad that his birthday present had to be something so that I didn't dream of…of Voldemort." He paused and waited for her to do, or say something that would show her pity or ask about his godfather, but all she did was nod.
"I did too. The dreams fade though, became a bit infrequent after a while, you'll be able to sleep again soon." Harry tilted his face up at her, but all he saw was a freckled cheek. She rearranged her limbs so that she could hug him a bit more. "I know you haven't told Ron or Hermione…" her voice trailed away. "They're worried sick about you."
"I can't."
"What do you mean you can't?"
"I can't pull them into this." 'Did I just say that?! Am I insane?!'
"They're already in this," she was murmuring into his ear. "And did it ever cross your mind they wouldn't want it to be any other way?" He didn't answer. "You're tired and you need sleep." She pulled him up off the floor and down onto a couch, she picked up a blanket which she had dropped coming down stairs, sat next to him and draped the blanket over them both. Harry couldn't help grinning, "did it ever come to you that I'm the guy and am supposed to be comforting you?" Ginny just giggled though, "time to get in touch with your feminine side boy-o. Now, bed." She rested at the other end of the couch, but for some reason Harry couldn't fall asleep. He felt cold, and before he could think of what exactly he was doing, he crawled underneath the blanket and snuggled against her back, wrapping his arm around her waist and resting his head next to her's.
The kitchen smell of spices filled his nose, the warmth and the way she snuggled against him caused him to drift into sleep, drowsily he realized that his wand was still on the chair which he had been trying to sleep on. He held out his hand for his wand, lying dully on the floor, and murmured a spell that made it skip up into his open palm. He did accio to make the photo album come to him. He pulled out the final two pictures, slid the photo album to where his feet were and looked at the last two. There were Ron and Hermione, pouring over homework, sitting close together. Very close together. Harry grinned and looked at the last photo, catching his breath very suddenly at the sight that greeted him.
Obviously Fred and George were kind to their younger brother and sister, buying them both new and definitely more fashionable dress robes. Harry had seen Ron's; they were dark blue with gold fastenings and made him look very good. He'd said that all the girls at Hogwarts would be dropping their jaws if they saw him now. Ron had grinned, looked at himself in the mirror and smoothed the robes down again. But Ginny's were nothing like the formal, loose one's he'd seen other's wear. These ones made him stare in awe.
There was Ginny Weasley, looking lovely in green the color of spring grass. She was on a hill with the sky a clear blue behind her and the sun shining down onto her hair, causing halo of light around her head. Her arms were out as she spun around in a circle, hands palm up, wrists turned down, making everything seem fluid, and graceful. Her hair curling at the ends, loose, flying around her like a fiery whirlwind. Her skirts flew around her, making a pale green blur, showing her ankles beneath, and her small bare feet, dancing in the green of the hill. Her head was tilted back showing a pale, graceful neck, her profile lovely against the sky. The green top pointed at the waist somewhat, but clung to her, cream colored braid outlined a slightly lower neck than Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would have liked, Harry was sure, and these robes looked more like a dress. But no, there was a robe over it, reaching down to her knees, a slightly lighter shade than her dress, with gold fastenings on it, and long sleeves reaching to her wrists.
Harry wasn't sure how long he lay there, just staring at the picture of Ginny. But he knew it was for a while. She was beautiful, he realized. How could he not? She had grown up, even Neville had noticed it, and judging by the extra robe over the dress, Fred and George had noticed their mistake by giving her such…accenting…robes. She was, beautiful. That was all that came to mind other than she must have been very happy to be spinning like that, on the hill overlooking the Burrow.
He stared at the picture again and compared it to the gentle creature in his arms; he sighed and relaxed back to holding her. Everything was dimming and he fell into a dream where he stood behind a red haired woman while gazing out at a sunset. He inhaled the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg and drifted blissfully off into sleep.
***
Sometime just before dawn Ginny realized that she was very warm, very happy, and unusually comfortable. She yawned slightly and moved her hand to scratch her belly, but instead encountered an arm, gently wrapped around her waist. Freezing for a moment, she tried to draw in as much information as possible without moving, she glanced down and found that the arm wrapped around her was connected to a hand, and in the hand was a piece of colored paper. Ginny tugged slightly at the paper and blushed that Harry would have such a personal image. Hermione would suffer for that, she thought along with a sudden blaze of information, Harry was holding her. She had to repeat it, Harry was holding her.
And the sun was rising which meant that many people would be awake very soon. She twisted her head around to view Harry's face and almost melted into his arms even more. He had a very small smile, patient, peaceful, loving? Ginny swallowed and heard a thump from somewhere in the Gryffindor dorms and wiggled away from Harry quickly, not daring herself to be caught sleeping next to him in such an intimate position.
As soon as he was away he rolled over and moaned, his face creasing into a worried frown to which it stayed. She watched his breathing, staring at him, at his arm, and touched her stomach slightly, 'he needed someone,' she thought breathlessly to herself. 'He would have acted the same around Lavender, or Parvati or any other girl, though he would have talked to Hermione if she was down here. He just needed someone to hold, it was nothing personal…' but her eyes drunk in the sight of him.
She tucked the photos of Ron, Hermione and herself back into the album, and carefully put that underneath his arm. Ginny watched him for a moment, almost close to tears, longing to crawl back onto the sofa and just be held by him…that was what she wanted, wasn't it? Harry's eyes were fluttering and he was beginning to moan again, like he had when Ginny found him the first time. Kneeling next to him, she tentatively stroked his cheek and pushed hair out of his eyes, smiling as his eyebrows softened from the frown that they were in, and soft, smooth, sad look. Reaching forward, ever so gently she brushed her lips against his forehead and stood just as quickly, rushing back to her dorm…Harry slept.
In his dream the warm woman moved away from him, he tried to get to her, how could she leave him? Clouds were swirling around him, he was losing sight of her, if he did, she'd leave, forever…no, she couldn't leave! No! A soft hissing sound reached his ears, building louder and louder…no, no…not her…not Ginny…'you can't have her!' he cried at the mist. But suddenly something was touching his forehead and once again he held Ginny, smelling of spices, her hair a halo of light, resting softly in his arms. She felt warm, and wonderful, radiant, and larger than he'd expect. In the dream he hugged her closer, a hand resting on her swollen stomach, his chin resting on her shoulder…"Harry! Wake up!"
***
Well, this is what my story is like...tell me if you want the other parts, I'm finishing it tonight. Mostly this is to get me used to using the chapter system so I tried to finish the whole thing before I posted. PLEASE review and let me know what you think. Comments, flames, I don't care. The setting was off I realized...the whole thing reminds me more of sixth year but I'm being difficult and doing fifth. They're most likely OOC (Ginny especially in this part) but I tried to stick to some of the fundamentals of their charachters. Anyhow, please review...they're very fun to recieve as most of you out there know.