Author's Note: Yes, if you're wondering, I did write this during a thunderstorm. I uploaded it then had to take it down the next day because I experienced another thunderstorm [outdoors, no less] and decided that the fic was incomplete.
The Thunderstorm
By like a falling star
She wanted to cry. She so wanted to cry.
As the thunder rumbled harshly outside, Ginny drew her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. She was trembling from head to foot.
She never did like thunderstorms. Hadn't liked them as a child, and she liked them none more so now. In fact, though Molly had dismissed it as merely a childish phase Ginny was going through, age had only served to increase Ginny's fears of the Great Horrible Beast, known to others as the average thunderstorm. The word 'thunderstorm' struck fear in her as 'You-Know-Who' and 'Azkaban' used to strike fear in others.
Ginny didn't mind an April shower now and then; she loved the fresh, clean smell of the air after a light Spring rain, as if the rain had made it pure in its passing. But the moment the sky turned a stormy grey, and dark clouds gathered in thick clusters, Ginny knew what was coming with a dread that weighed heavily in her heart, and she would close all the doors and windows, and crawl into a dark corner and hide. She would switch off the lights as well, so as not to alert the Great Horrible Beast of her presence. She didn't want it to find her. She was terrified at the very thought.
A flash of lightning lit up the room and Ginny could barely make out the dancing, skeletal shapes of a few shadows before the room was plunged into darkness once again. Ginny shut her eyes and braced herself for the rumble of thunder that would soon follow. It inevitably came but a split second later, the loud, angry growl of a ferocious creature-of-the-night. Ginny wondered vaguely if it would spare her this time. It had spared her all the other times before, but then she may just have been lucky then, and, oh, it frightened her so!
Suddenly a bolt of lightning ripped the sky, spreading gnarled claws, veined and web-like, across the inky black horizon, and an earth-shattering roar pierced the air, much like a gunshot, only prolonged. Ginny wanted to scream but she couldn't. No, she would be so conspicuous if she screamed! And then it would find her! A muffled sob escaped her and she curled into a tight little ball, hoping, wishing… for what, she did not know, but she was hoping and wishing just the same.
Thunderstorms always made her think of things which she did not want to think about, moments she wanted – needed - desperately to forget. Monsters under her bed. Being insulted and jeered at because no one realised that she actually had feelings. Tom. Dark ink on yellowed pages. Dead roosters. Blood on her hands. Blending into the background, an unloved wallflower, because she was plain. These unwanted memories came rushing back to her in one big tidal wave, threatening to overwhelm her, to choke her as she lay curled in a corner, her tiny body wracked with sobs and with guilt and with the weight of a chilling encounter that should never have to plague a childhood.
When she'd been a little girl, she used to dream of being Harry Potter's best friend, fighting evil and battling the forces of darkness together with him. And she used to dream that after all said evil forces had been defeated, he would turn to her gratefully [and by then he'd have fallen in love with her too] and ask for her hand in marriage. Instead, what had she done? She'd been stupid and silly and entranced by a diary, of all things, and had nearly killed him in the process.
Ginny shuddered as a sudden draft swept into the room. Her head whipped up, and suddenly strong, protective arms were around her, arms that were warm and familiar and never failed to calm her fears.
"Shh… it's all right, I'm here…" He patted her back. His very touch was soothing. "It's all right…"
Ginny clutched to him for dear life, and her sobs gradually ebbed away into silence, even as the thunderstorm thrived outside. She then noticed, as if for the first time, that he was here, and that he was breathing heavily. "You- you're here!"
A sincerely apologetic look filled his deep green eyes. "Oh, Ginny, I'm so sorry. I heard the thunder - wanted to leave – duties – briefing – rushed here – apparition borders faulty – floo – ran –"
"You're here!" Ginny repeated, amazed. Everything was all right now. He was here, and she would be fine. She knew, knew with unyielding trust and a blind love that outweighed everything else, that to protect her, he would stand between her and death if he had to. And she wasn't afraid any longer. "You're supposed to be having a meeting with the Minister of Magic!"
"I couldn't let you deal with it on your own." Harry's eyes locked into hers, and he seemed to be searching for something. "Ginny- I know we've been living here – together – for… for two years, and—"
"In separate bedrooms," Ginny reminded him, giggling. "Ron would have a fit if he heard the way you're speaking, as if we—" She broke off, embarrassed.
"We've been living together for two years, Ginny, and…" A nervous laugh escaped him, which he quickly turned into a coughing fit.
"Harry! Are you all right? C'mon, I'll get you some hot tea. You're going to get sick."
"No!" He grabbed her as she stood up and pulled her back down. "I'm all right, Ginny, I'm – oh, heck, Ginny, I'm no good at this, but I'm asking you to marry me." He blurted out, then looked as if he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "I'm sorry, this is a bad time, it isn't romantic at all like Fred said it should be—"
"Harry!" Ginny stood up, her cheeks reddening, pulling him with her. "Let's get you some tea. Come on."
They descended the steps to the kitchen, Harry trailing reluctantly behind. "So, what does this mean? Are you going to marry me?" He asked, looking much like a lost, hopeful little puppy, Ginny thought.
She laughed, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Of course I'll marry you, Harry, you silly boy. What, you thought I was going to say 'no'? Ha, as if!"
Harry stared at her for a moment. Then he swept her into his arms and twirled her around and around until both collapsed, drunk with happiness.
*