A/n: Expect shortness from this chapter. I didn't really think it belonged in chapter one or two. Think of this more as a sort of 1.5 in terms of chapters. I hope everyone is enjoying the story. I'm writing it just because I felt like there wasn't enough portrayal of-I don't know...ya know? HI KARA! Ok so...expect shortness now and expect soon-ness for the later...
"I love you" Ginny stated in an almost expected way after they had finished "unwrapping her birthday presents" that night.
"I love you to" Dean said in the said in the same effortless manner.
It was comfortable lying there in his bed. His warm apartment with the subtle touches of her defined what was filial nourishment. Plush carpets inviting bare feet to walk upon them. Clear windows with streams of light pouring through when you woke up in the morning wrapped up in a soft white down comforter. Yes, it was certainly comfortable here in Dean's bed.
Pictures of her with her naked teeth flashing about the walls. Vague smells of Dean crept out of the carpets, ceiling and just about every place. She loved his empty fridge, his childish quidditch posters and most importantly, Ginny loved him.
He loved her too. Even though there were slight indiscretions on his part in the beginning of the relationship, those injudicious times were all resolved now and he was even thinking about marriage. He thought about stupid things like where they would live and what kind of pets. He assumed she would say yes and they would live happily ever after. They had both been through so much in the past years and he was glad after everything that they could finally settle down and start a life together. Of course, he wasn't thinking of anything official. He had no ring, no romantic proposal yet. They were young. They had time. Time to sit in bed after sex and not talk, just think. He knew that someday, even if far away, he would marry her.
Together they lay in silence, with their legs touching and his long arms around her waist. Ginny let out a satisfied sigh and overlapped his wrist with hers.
"Why do you think Harry left," Ginny said quite suddenly
"I guess he had just had enough. It's a damn shame though. He was a good wizard" Dean responded.
"Kind of sad don't you think?"
"I guess"
"You guess" Ginny argued.
"Yeah"
"Why?"
"I don't know"
"Dean, why?"
"I guess I just always felt like...harry was a bit of a drama queen"
"What?"
"I mean, all those times he took it upon himself to save everyone-"
"-but you're glad he did, aren't you"
"Yes. I don't know. I'm sorry if we disagree." He paused. "Plus, Harry went through a lot. I can understand why he didn't want to be around magic and wizards anymore."
"We all went through a lot. I lost people too" Deep down Ginny knew that even though that last year of Hogwarts she lost Ron too, she didn't have the same burden that Harry had always had. She wasn't the one who had to find him in the boys quarters in that ghostly mangled way. In fact, unlike Harry, she had blocked all thoughts of Ron's corpse out of her mind completely.
"Wait," Dean said "I thought you were just defending Harry. Now you are telling me you think he's wrong. I'm confused."
"I don't know what I mean" Ginny whispered almost in anger.
"I'm sorry, I just meant-"
"Let's just not talk about Harry, alright?" She said coldly.
"Fine" there was a pause. "You were the one who brought it up"
Ginny moved her hand away from his and rolled over.
Harry awoke shedding a layer of sweat all over his body. The nightmares were the worst part of the aftermath. He could escape the memories in reality and preoccupy himself by making lattes, but no mater how much he tried he could not control his subconscious. Late at night when he had finally given in to his body and allowed himself a few moments rest, his mind would wander into suppressed thoughts and those horrible times he wished he had forgotten. Harry would be forced to relive those final moments in Voldermort's life. Those evil eyes taunting him with their beastly heinous demeanor would be reborn in his mind.
Then, he would see Ron. Ron would call to him for help. Harry would run and run, but the closer Harry seamed in an instant he would be exceedingly farther. It was like reading a story you've read a million times before. You know how it will end. You know you can't change the record, but you cheer for the hero and gasp at every cliffhanger just the same.
Occasionally, he would see Sirius. The godfather he once loved, would blame him and tell Harry how disgraceful he had become. Everyone he knew that he had lost became poltergeists and phantoms at night. People Harry once had called friends now only prolonged his recovery from the past. And he was alone. Everything he had tried to forget haunted him in his dreams. Even the tiny relief in waking up was squashed by the realization of truth in his nightmares. There was nothing Harry could do to remedy his losses.
The sky was dark and he could feel the cold air even though he was shielded by thin dingy walls. He wondered what everyone else still awake was doing. Harry thought of people with their families. The happy couples that were merely enjoying one another's company. Most oblivious to the battles he had faced and the triumphs he felt were counterfeit. He wondered if anyone out there was unhappier than he was.
Sitting upright in bed, he thought of his derogate experience with Ginny and Dean. How uncomfortable and unwanted it was. He thought about what they might be thinking. Then he thought of all the thought he was putting into it. He tried to not consider the encounter. If only it had not caught him off guard.
She looked a little bit like Ron. She was just more feminine. In typical eerie Harry fashion, it was like his nightmares had come true and Ron was haunting him in some gloomy dark way. He hated life.
Now on the small balcony of his small apartment he let out small whips of smoke into the violet starless sky. Somewhere above and around all the lights of London Harry began to feel slightly calmer. He had started smoking somewhere around the end of his first year post-Hogwarts. He knew it was dangerous. He couldn't really afford it either. But in terms of health, he didn't really care. It didn't really matter how long he lived now, just so long as there was something to ease all of the pain. Nothing really could make him feel better in the end. It was more like there was this deep wound somewhere near his gut. Every day, it gushed out more and more blood. There was nothing to do to save himself or stop this gaping breach of flesh. In the end it would kill him. However, if he was doomed, the cigarettes numbed his pain and made him think of other places.
"I love you" Ginny stated in an almost expected way after they had finished "unwrapping her birthday presents" that night.
"I love you to" Dean said in the said in the same effortless manner.
It was comfortable lying there in his bed. His warm apartment with the subtle touches of her defined what was filial nourishment. Plush carpets inviting bare feet to walk upon them. Clear windows with streams of light pouring through when you woke up in the morning wrapped up in a soft white down comforter. Yes, it was certainly comfortable here in Dean's bed.
Pictures of her with her naked teeth flashing about the walls. Vague smells of Dean crept out of the carpets, ceiling and just about every place. She loved his empty fridge, his childish quidditch posters and most importantly, Ginny loved him.
He loved her too. Even though there were slight indiscretions on his part in the beginning of the relationship, those injudicious times were all resolved now and he was even thinking about marriage. He thought about stupid things like where they would live and what kind of pets. He assumed she would say yes and they would live happily ever after. They had both been through so much in the past years and he was glad after everything that they could finally settle down and start a life together. Of course, he wasn't thinking of anything official. He had no ring, no romantic proposal yet. They were young. They had time. Time to sit in bed after sex and not talk, just think. He knew that someday, even if far away, he would marry her.
Together they lay in silence, with their legs touching and his long arms around her waist. Ginny let out a satisfied sigh and overlapped his wrist with hers.
"Why do you think Harry left," Ginny said quite suddenly
"I guess he had just had enough. It's a damn shame though. He was a good wizard" Dean responded.
"Kind of sad don't you think?"
"I guess"
"You guess" Ginny argued.
"Yeah"
"Why?"
"I don't know"
"Dean, why?"
"I guess I just always felt like...harry was a bit of a drama queen"
"What?"
"I mean, all those times he took it upon himself to save everyone-"
"-but you're glad he did, aren't you"
"Yes. I don't know. I'm sorry if we disagree." He paused. "Plus, Harry went through a lot. I can understand why he didn't want to be around magic and wizards anymore."
"We all went through a lot. I lost people too" Deep down Ginny knew that even though that last year of Hogwarts she lost Ron too, she didn't have the same burden that Harry had always had. She wasn't the one who had to find him in the boys quarters in that ghostly mangled way. In fact, unlike Harry, she had blocked all thoughts of Ron's corpse out of her mind completely.
"Wait," Dean said "I thought you were just defending Harry. Now you are telling me you think he's wrong. I'm confused."
"I don't know what I mean" Ginny whispered almost in anger.
"I'm sorry, I just meant-"
"Let's just not talk about Harry, alright?" She said coldly.
"Fine" there was a pause. "You were the one who brought it up"
Ginny moved her hand away from his and rolled over.
Harry awoke shedding a layer of sweat all over his body. The nightmares were the worst part of the aftermath. He could escape the memories in reality and preoccupy himself by making lattes, but no mater how much he tried he could not control his subconscious. Late at night when he had finally given in to his body and allowed himself a few moments rest, his mind would wander into suppressed thoughts and those horrible times he wished he had forgotten. Harry would be forced to relive those final moments in Voldermort's life. Those evil eyes taunting him with their beastly heinous demeanor would be reborn in his mind.
Then, he would see Ron. Ron would call to him for help. Harry would run and run, but the closer Harry seamed in an instant he would be exceedingly farther. It was like reading a story you've read a million times before. You know how it will end. You know you can't change the record, but you cheer for the hero and gasp at every cliffhanger just the same.
Occasionally, he would see Sirius. The godfather he once loved, would blame him and tell Harry how disgraceful he had become. Everyone he knew that he had lost became poltergeists and phantoms at night. People Harry once had called friends now only prolonged his recovery from the past. And he was alone. Everything he had tried to forget haunted him in his dreams. Even the tiny relief in waking up was squashed by the realization of truth in his nightmares. There was nothing Harry could do to remedy his losses.
The sky was dark and he could feel the cold air even though he was shielded by thin dingy walls. He wondered what everyone else still awake was doing. Harry thought of people with their families. The happy couples that were merely enjoying one another's company. Most oblivious to the battles he had faced and the triumphs he felt were counterfeit. He wondered if anyone out there was unhappier than he was.
Sitting upright in bed, he thought of his derogate experience with Ginny and Dean. How uncomfortable and unwanted it was. He thought about what they might be thinking. Then he thought of all the thought he was putting into it. He tried to not consider the encounter. If only it had not caught him off guard.
She looked a little bit like Ron. She was just more feminine. In typical eerie Harry fashion, it was like his nightmares had come true and Ron was haunting him in some gloomy dark way. He hated life.
Now on the small balcony of his small apartment he let out small whips of smoke into the violet starless sky. Somewhere above and around all the lights of London Harry began to feel slightly calmer. He had started smoking somewhere around the end of his first year post-Hogwarts. He knew it was dangerous. He couldn't really afford it either. But in terms of health, he didn't really care. It didn't really matter how long he lived now, just so long as there was something to ease all of the pain. Nothing really could make him feel better in the end. It was more like there was this deep wound somewhere near his gut. Every day, it gushed out more and more blood. There was nothing to do to save himself or stop this gaping breach of flesh. In the end it would kill him. However, if he was doomed, the cigarettes numbed his pain and made him think of other places.