Title: The Ginny Chronicles
Author: Casca mailto:Casccara@yahoo.com
Classification: H/G, Ginny POV
Summary: Ginny and her conscience battle out her life.
Spoilers: Eventually, yes, through "Goblet."
Rating: PG (for now)
Disclaimer: All characters and names used in these fics are the legal
property and creative work of JK Rowling and/or Warner Bros.
I'm just having some great fun with them. :)
~The Ginny Chronicles~
Harry looked at me five times today. Five times, five times! And, no, I'm not merely speaking about the kind of looks your older brother's best friend gives you—I'm talking about the kind of looks that leave a girl breathless. Pensive, thoughtful looks that make a girl want to pull her hair out and run for her life. But the girl can't do any such thing because his eyes are locked on hers and she has no way of breaking that gaze, that connection she dreamt of being the recipient of for six long years.
The first Look happened at breakfast this morning, the morning after my Progress and Profess Episode in the common room last night. The other Looks happened throughout the day at various whimsical moments. At lunch, passing in the hall, at dinner, earlier right here in the Gryffindor Common Room.
I fear that the entire school must think I am quite dense. I know I would think a girl was dense if she were to suddenly stop whatever she was doing and stare into space, with various odd looks running across her face. I indeed had several of these episodes in numerous intervals during the day. During these episodes, the fact that Harry Potter was looking at me would simply occur to me-- for no particular reason other than the hair at the back of my neck would stand on end and the ever-present butterflies would make their star appearance and I would stop doing whatever I was doing- be it walking or talking- and look up to find where he was and which particular Look he was gracing me with at that particular time.
Each and every Look is embedded in my mind- I forced myself to memorize them and implant them into my brain— it really was quite useless, see, because his face is a permanent fixture of my heart. However, my foolish mind seemed to fear that I would forget the Looks and therefore cause much destruction in my life on this day… this day where the world is upside down and I am the cause of it.
This meant that many of my classes suffered in the mean time. Professor Flitwick inquired if their was anything bothering me as I stared at him with my mouth open, my wand raised to perform the Scouring Charm and sitting there like a dunce… frozen… thinking about the most recent Look, the one that was granted in the corridor just before class.
And Harry's voice, oh, that soft deep voice… it sends shivers down my spine… I was hearing that voice all day.
That voice said my name four times. Four times in one day, Harry said the word "Ginny." Last summer, he said my name four times in one month and I can remember the exact moment, the exact place, and the exact state of insanity I underwent.
So to tally up the events of my day: Harry looked at me five times (really looked, did I mention that?) and Harry said my name four times. The tally is higher than it has ever been and I should be happy and ecstatic and jump up and down and rush to tell Hermione. It's something I should write home to my Mum with because I know she would be so very proud.
Then why, oh why, oh why am I sitting here in this vacant common room at 2 am, unable to sleep? Why have I avoided being alone with Hermione all day in fear that she might be happier about Harry's attention towards me than I am?
Why am I so scared?
What do you think?
There you are, right on schedule.
Seriously, what do you think?
I think I'm going loony listening to you.
What are you scared of?
No clue.
Really? Come on, think.
I sigh and rub my tired eyes. The massive fire of the common room cackles and sparks in front of me. I suppose I'm wondering why he is looking at me. I mean, why all of a sudden?
Your declaration was quite suddenly, at least in his eyes.
I don't want these looks to happen because of what I said last night! I want him to look by himself.
To late, you started it.
Arg. I suppose I did, didn't I? Dim-witted fool, that's what I am.
Stop it.
Well, I am. I should have thought of the consequences of my actions.
Didn't you?
Well, obviously I didn't. I never expected this.
Didn't you?
No! Er, well, I suppose, maybe, perhaps, I did want this… at least I thought I wanted this.
Wait a minute! I sit up strait and my eyes are wide. Perhaps this isn't really happening! Perhaps Harry isn't looking at me! Perhaps I am simply imagining it! That has to be it! I've spent years taking apart his every careless glance and perhaps today…
Oh, but the picture of his face, his green, green eyes gazing at me this morning flashes across my mind and it's enough to make me weep just thinking he's not looking. I want him to look so bad it makes everything inside me hurt.
He was looking… wasn't he?
Yes, he was.
And he did say my name four times… right?
Yes, he did.
The relief floods through me and I smile weekly at the fire. He did look… even if it may not be in the circumstances I've always dreamt of.
Insert scene where I walk with my flowing scarlet tresses into a room at home. Harry's just arrived for the summer and he looks up and, with a jolt, he sees that I have grown, oh, so beautiful in the time we were apart since the previous term. I am not Little Ginny Weasley anymore and he must get to know me as the real person that I am. We stare at each other and Harry realizes his love one night when the two of us cannot sleep and are sitting on the back porch of my house and I am carelessly pretty and we are talking and laughing about little nothings…
Why, why, why couldn't it have been like that? Why couldn't I have kept my stupid, loud mouth shut and waited a while longer? What is my big, dim-witted DEAL?
And all of a sudden my breath has caught in my throat. Harry has just appeared right in front of me out of thin air. I am on my feet, screaming in terror and he whips around and draws his wand in one swift motion. I see his wand pointed to my chest and his intense green eyes looking very capable of murder.
"Ginny?!"
That makes five, I think madly, as I grip the back of the chair in fright.
His vivid eyes focus on me and the murderous look that is sending ice through my body is disappearing very slowly and is now replaced with relief. I notice, that he is carrying some sort of silver looking cloak over his arm and I recognize what it is. An Invisibility Cloak.
"Where…" I ask stupidly, not knowing what I intended to say. "How…"
Harry takes a deep breath and lifts up his cloak. "I didn't see you, sorry. I was just… coming in."
"Oh," I breath and desperately want to ask him where he's been all night. But in fear he wouldn't tell me, I stay silent.
My eyes are locked onto his all of a sudden but I break away quickly at what I see. There's a longing in them, and this goes far and beyond anything he's feeling for me… he's longing for something, something I know he needs… something he was quite obviously searching for tonight…
Would you like to sit with me? I want to ask. Would you like to tell me what's in your heart, what's making you hurt? Do you want to tell me how your eyes can look ready to kill one moment and so, so sad, the next?
He doesn't want you here.
I know. That's what I've been fearing, I suppose.
He can't help it… you know he can't help but pull away… from everyone, not just you…
I wanted to be special. I wanted him to let me in, but I don't think he will ever allow me inside his heart…
Perhaps he's scared, as well…I know he is.
I sigh softly at the truth and force myself to give him a smile. "I was just about to go off to bed. Good night, Harry."
"Goodnight, Ginny," he says very softly.
Six is a beautiful, glorious number.
I start walking towards the stairs, and see that he is sitting now and watching the fire as I had done. I want to tell him things, I want him to listen to me and forgot about his pain… I want…
"Harry?" I asked softly.
He turns to me and my heart simply melts.
I love you, I want to say. I would do anything for you.
However, my declaration isn't appropriate now. It may have been acceptable last night with a room full of people… but not now, not when we are alone and his heart is showing in his eyes. Some things, quite simply, cannot be said.
"Sweet dreams," I say softly and wish it for him from the bottom of my heart.
His eyes lock onto mine again and the emotions are naked in them. " 'Night," he mutters, and his throaty voice seems to flow through my blood.
I turn then, as I had the night before, and walk up the stairs to go to bed.
To Be Continued…
Back to the Hidden Tower
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