Beautiful.
Disclaimer: all characters belong from the books belong to JK Rowling plus Hogwarts plot all mine (
A/n. Oh, I forgot, ratgirl, if you're reading this, what story on sugarquill.net? I go on that site sometimes!
"You truthfully do?" Ginny asked again, seemingly unable to believe his answer.
Harry nodded again. It was true, he wasn't lying. Maybe during his second year, all he had thought of Ginny was his best friends younger sister, and that she was very irritating to him. The way she blushed whenever she spoke to him, became suddenly clumsy from a rather graceful Ginny whenever he entered the room, her beseeching eyes glued on him when she thought he didn't notice, the singing valentine…He closed his eyes in embarrassment at remembering the desperate struggle to escape to the freedom, and failing miserably.
But in his third year, she had been much more mature and sensible and it didn't really shine through noticeably like last year, when she should have just got a top saying 'I love Harry Potter' to make it less conspicuous, she couldn't had even hid it if she tried during that first year. But in third year, Harry noticed that she wasn't just his best friend's sister, but Ginny, a girl, a quite beautiful girl in his opinion. And in fourth year, it changed completely. He had suddenly realised one night that he adored her, he liked in loads more ways than Ron anticipated. Much more ways. Even, he suspected, Ron would be shocked if he someone managed to probe inside Harry's brain, and discovered what fantasy daydreams he had.
Of course, they weren't all fantasy or dreamy, others were serious, filled with anger and a raging fury that refused to stop. The day dreams he had of revenging Voldemort for his parents, for anyone else that had lost someone due to his Death Eaters or himself. He desperately needed revenge. Anyone, who could kill his parents just for fun or any reason, needed justifying. Needed something done to them. For the millionth time, he imagined his parents last moments, it was a common thought. He heard their voices inside his head, screaming, shouting, and of course the cruel leering pale face and the fatal flash of green light. They had died, maybe even sacrificed if you thought about it that way, for him. Their only son. Him, Harry. How much he wished that they were alive, that he lived with them, not the measly horrid Dursley's. Each year, Dudley grew and grew his tantrums still fairly common and his lustful staring over girls in magazines. As if they'd ever go for him, his diet results hadn't seemed to begin showing yet. Either that or he wasn't sticking to it.
That he wouldn't have lead such a miserable existence with them, during the first eleven years of his life, enduring insects and tiny spaces, sleeping in a cupboard, being used as a slave.
Maybe he could have lived a life similar to the Weasleys', as a loving, caring family. A nurtured environment, people that actually cared about him, loved him even. That they generally did that, it was just part of being the family. Not like the Dursleys, they didn't even try and hide the fact they detested him.
But it was much more than weird, that * none *, none at all, of the Potters actually were alive, except him. That the Dursleys were his * only * relative. Damn Voldemort, damn him. Why did he have to live with them, not his parents? Living with his parents would resemble a seventh heaven of bliss for him. His greatest wish, and yet it would probably would never happen…
"Harry?" Ginny startled him out his thoughts. "Harry?"
"What?" he said, irritably, he never liked being prised out his thoughts.
"Are you OK?" Ginny asked anxiously, looking worriedly at him. It was then Harry realised he's been crying, only he'd been so preoccupied with his thoughts, that he hadn't noticed.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said quickly, swiping the tears with his sleeve.
"That doesn't fool me," she said quietly, after a moment's pause.
"I don't know what you're on about," he said, avoiding her eyes. He never talked about his family, never, he kept that to himself, and he wasn't about to tell Ginny. Although, sometimes, he admitted reluctantly, he shared them with Sirius, but Sirius was different, he had known his parents, that was different to knowing about their unfortunate fate.
"Harry, I'm not that thick. I know what you were crying about," she said softly. "You're just a boy," she suddenly added her thoughts unknowingly. "Like you'd admit it."
Harry didn't feel the need to speak, so he remained silent.
"All part of the bravado act, never to be seen crying, never talking about their feelings," she continued, listlessly. "You know it isn't actually a crime to cry. It's actually a way of showing you are actually a human, that you have feelings. Some people, namely boys, think it's stupid to cry, afraid to show their feelings, think people will tease them, and so they keep them to themselves. People like Draco," she added. "He's got a family, but they aren't perfect. He feels pressurised to be like him, as his father is too domineering, too much of an evil influence. His father supports You Know Who, all the way, and so he wants his son too as well, and that may not be what he wants, but it's the only way to keep peace, otherwise his father will hate him more than he already does. He's used to hiding his true feelings, he was brought up hard, brought up to be cruel and leering, in a way training for a Death Eater at an early age. You know, his father made him kill animals, and then later, made him kill excess problem house elves," she shuddered. "People like You Know Who, obviously don't think feelings matter, they kill people without a second thought, although they keep appearing in nightmares and dreams, and are constantly nagging in their heads. But they're wrong, feelings do matter." She stopped, having said all she felt she needed to and then started again. "The thing is Harry, I cry often, it gets the feelings out, I write down things for the same reason and it works. It sorts out everything in my head, makes me sense than having fly about my memory, makes me a more tolerable person. But boys don't do that, they think it's childish, it doesn't matter. It does." She stopped again. "But I don't know why I just said that, you're obviously not listening, and as if my thoughts actually matter."
"How do you know about Malfoy?"
"I convinced him," she said simply, her tone showing she wasn't about to go into detail and that it obviously was something she had promised to keep quiet.
"Convinced him of what?" he asked again, curiosity jerking him out of his gloom, or some of it.
Ginny remained frozen, before sighing. "Just say he was about to commit suicide, when I came out to sort out my head and practically saved his life, as he puts it. He may still act the same, but inside, I changed him. And I'm not telling you anymore, and if you spread it, you'll know what I'll think."
"You're right," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "I was crying about my parents." Ginny noticed, by the light of the fire, his eyes were shining with water.
"Go on then, unless you want sudden bursts of emotion, you better start telling me just how you feel," she said carefully.
A/n. It was gonna go on for ages, unless I stopped it there!!!!! Ok, I'd like twenty reviews for the next chapter to be written please! Please?! (
Disclaimer: all characters belong from the books belong to JK Rowling plus Hogwarts plot all mine (
A/n. Oh, I forgot, ratgirl, if you're reading this, what story on sugarquill.net? I go on that site sometimes!
"You truthfully do?" Ginny asked again, seemingly unable to believe his answer.
Harry nodded again. It was true, he wasn't lying. Maybe during his second year, all he had thought of Ginny was his best friends younger sister, and that she was very irritating to him. The way she blushed whenever she spoke to him, became suddenly clumsy from a rather graceful Ginny whenever he entered the room, her beseeching eyes glued on him when she thought he didn't notice, the singing valentine…He closed his eyes in embarrassment at remembering the desperate struggle to escape to the freedom, and failing miserably.
But in his third year, she had been much more mature and sensible and it didn't really shine through noticeably like last year, when she should have just got a top saying 'I love Harry Potter' to make it less conspicuous, she couldn't had even hid it if she tried during that first year. But in third year, Harry noticed that she wasn't just his best friend's sister, but Ginny, a girl, a quite beautiful girl in his opinion. And in fourth year, it changed completely. He had suddenly realised one night that he adored her, he liked in loads more ways than Ron anticipated. Much more ways. Even, he suspected, Ron would be shocked if he someone managed to probe inside Harry's brain, and discovered what fantasy daydreams he had.
Of course, they weren't all fantasy or dreamy, others were serious, filled with anger and a raging fury that refused to stop. The day dreams he had of revenging Voldemort for his parents, for anyone else that had lost someone due to his Death Eaters or himself. He desperately needed revenge. Anyone, who could kill his parents just for fun or any reason, needed justifying. Needed something done to them. For the millionth time, he imagined his parents last moments, it was a common thought. He heard their voices inside his head, screaming, shouting, and of course the cruel leering pale face and the fatal flash of green light. They had died, maybe even sacrificed if you thought about it that way, for him. Their only son. Him, Harry. How much he wished that they were alive, that he lived with them, not the measly horrid Dursley's. Each year, Dudley grew and grew his tantrums still fairly common and his lustful staring over girls in magazines. As if they'd ever go for him, his diet results hadn't seemed to begin showing yet. Either that or he wasn't sticking to it.
That he wouldn't have lead such a miserable existence with them, during the first eleven years of his life, enduring insects and tiny spaces, sleeping in a cupboard, being used as a slave.
Maybe he could have lived a life similar to the Weasleys', as a loving, caring family. A nurtured environment, people that actually cared about him, loved him even. That they generally did that, it was just part of being the family. Not like the Dursleys, they didn't even try and hide the fact they detested him.
But it was much more than weird, that * none *, none at all, of the Potters actually were alive, except him. That the Dursleys were his * only * relative. Damn Voldemort, damn him. Why did he have to live with them, not his parents? Living with his parents would resemble a seventh heaven of bliss for him. His greatest wish, and yet it would probably would never happen…
"Harry?" Ginny startled him out his thoughts. "Harry?"
"What?" he said, irritably, he never liked being prised out his thoughts.
"Are you OK?" Ginny asked anxiously, looking worriedly at him. It was then Harry realised he's been crying, only he'd been so preoccupied with his thoughts, that he hadn't noticed.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said quickly, swiping the tears with his sleeve.
"That doesn't fool me," she said quietly, after a moment's pause.
"I don't know what you're on about," he said, avoiding her eyes. He never talked about his family, never, he kept that to himself, and he wasn't about to tell Ginny. Although, sometimes, he admitted reluctantly, he shared them with Sirius, but Sirius was different, he had known his parents, that was different to knowing about their unfortunate fate.
"Harry, I'm not that thick. I know what you were crying about," she said softly. "You're just a boy," she suddenly added her thoughts unknowingly. "Like you'd admit it."
Harry didn't feel the need to speak, so he remained silent.
"All part of the bravado act, never to be seen crying, never talking about their feelings," she continued, listlessly. "You know it isn't actually a crime to cry. It's actually a way of showing you are actually a human, that you have feelings. Some people, namely boys, think it's stupid to cry, afraid to show their feelings, think people will tease them, and so they keep them to themselves. People like Draco," she added. "He's got a family, but they aren't perfect. He feels pressurised to be like him, as his father is too domineering, too much of an evil influence. His father supports You Know Who, all the way, and so he wants his son too as well, and that may not be what he wants, but it's the only way to keep peace, otherwise his father will hate him more than he already does. He's used to hiding his true feelings, he was brought up hard, brought up to be cruel and leering, in a way training for a Death Eater at an early age. You know, his father made him kill animals, and then later, made him kill excess problem house elves," she shuddered. "People like You Know Who, obviously don't think feelings matter, they kill people without a second thought, although they keep appearing in nightmares and dreams, and are constantly nagging in their heads. But they're wrong, feelings do matter." She stopped, having said all she felt she needed to and then started again. "The thing is Harry, I cry often, it gets the feelings out, I write down things for the same reason and it works. It sorts out everything in my head, makes me sense than having fly about my memory, makes me a more tolerable person. But boys don't do that, they think it's childish, it doesn't matter. It does." She stopped again. "But I don't know why I just said that, you're obviously not listening, and as if my thoughts actually matter."
"How do you know about Malfoy?"
"I convinced him," she said simply, her tone showing she wasn't about to go into detail and that it obviously was something she had promised to keep quiet.
"Convinced him of what?" he asked again, curiosity jerking him out of his gloom, or some of it.
Ginny remained frozen, before sighing. "Just say he was about to commit suicide, when I came out to sort out my head and practically saved his life, as he puts it. He may still act the same, but inside, I changed him. And I'm not telling you anymore, and if you spread it, you'll know what I'll think."
"You're right," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "I was crying about my parents." Ginny noticed, by the light of the fire, his eyes were shining with water.
"Go on then, unless you want sudden bursts of emotion, you better start telling me just how you feel," she said carefully.
A/n. It was gonna go on for ages, unless I stopped it there!!!!! Ok, I'd like twenty reviews for the next chapter to be written please! Please?! (