Thanks to KittyMonster for being my beta reader.
I hope everyone enjoys this! This is my first HP fic, so please R&R. I'd appreciate it ^_^
Warning: This fic contains OOTP spoilers (and will probably not make much sense if you haven't read it)!
For the Love of Quidditch
Chapter 4 - "There's no Place like Home"
***
The weather got suddenly warmer after Harry's birthday, the sweet smell of summer blossoms hanging heavily in the air. The sun scorched the earth to unbearable temperatures. Even in the shade it was sizzling. Quidditch practices turned into a feverish battle against the heat.
Ron's first game was two Sundays after Harry's birthday. Harry, Ginny, Hermione, the twins and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were seated in the stands, waiting for the game to begin. They fanned themselves with the yellow and blue flags they had purchased to cheer on the Valiant Vipertooths. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his T-shirt beginning to stick to his skin with sweat. He'd cut a pair of his jeans into shorts and was wearing them now. He sat in between his two friends, chatting listlessly, feeling as though he would like to go have a nap in the shade of the forest. Ron appeared on the pitch as the announcer called his team. He strode out, head held proudly as he mounted his broom and waited for the whistle that would start the game. His lips were pursed in determination as he stared intensely at the referee. Harry and the others cheered, their voices dry and cracking.
Ron did superbly. He only let in one goal the whole match, which had lasted a lengthy hour and a half before Cho had caught the snitch and won the game for the Vipertooth's. Harry had paid special attention to the opposing team, the Ferocious Fireballs, as he and Ginny would be playing them in a fortnight.
They met Ron shortly after the end of the game, congratulated him on his spectacular performance. Hermione gave him a kiss on the cheek and they watched Ron's ears turn bright red.
Harry turned to Ginny. "I wonder if I act like that when I like a girl."
"No, you're much worse." Ginny said teasingly, a wicked smile appearing across her freckled face.
"Thank you, Ginny Weasley, for your expert conclusion." Harry retorted sarcastically.
"Anytime." She grinned.
"Well, then maybe you'd like to give me some lessons on how to seduce a woman, if you know so much." Harry said smoothly, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk, his green eyes twinkling.
"I bet you'd like that."
"Perhaps."
"I'll think about it." Ginny smiled up at him wantonly. Harry balked for a moment, thrown off by her obvious flirtations. He felt himself being drawn into her eyes, wanted to grab her and pull her close to him and kiss her. However he regained his self-control, and simply gave her the sexiest look he could muster, hoping that he didn't look like a complete git in the process. He took her lack of any obvious response as a good sign. She just continued to smile at him.
Ron walked up to the group with Hermione.
"Hey Ron, that was awesome! We're going to have a tough time scoring on you!" Harry praised his friend. Ron smirked and stomped right past him to his parents and brothers, leaving Harry speechless and confused. Hermione followed behind Ron, gave Harry a heartening smile and shrugged. He turned to Ginny in hopes she may give him some insight into his brother's behaviour, but she looked just as bewildered as he did.
Ron had been ignoring Harry now for three days since the game. However at this point in time Ron was off at his Quidditch practice. Harry and Hermione were sitting in the garden going over some of their summer Charms homework. They hid themselves under the shade of the irregular house, trying to escape the sun's blistering rays. Books and pieces of parchment were scattered about in front of them on the crisp green grass. They heard a pop as Ron appeared in the yard.
"Hey Ron. How was practice?" Harry ventured, hoping that maybe a good practice had gotten Ron over whatever it was he was so mad at Harry about. Ron just glared at him, and walked over next to Hermione.
"Hermione, why are you talking to him?" He made it sound as though Harry was some kind of nasty disease, or perhaps the equivalent to Draco Malfoy. Harry shuddered.
"Because he's my friend." Hermione said, annoyance replacing her normally pleasant tone.
"Oh, I see. So you're on his side then, are you?"
"I wasn't aware there were 'sides'." There was that same tone. She looked at Ron, a displeased look in her eyes. Harry swore he saw her eyebrow twitch. "Look. I'm sick of this... whatever this is. Ron, talk to Harry if you're mad at him, but I will not be put in the middle of your stupid little argument." And with that, Hermione gathered her things and stormed into the house. Harry stood slowly, not wanting to make Ron madder than he already apparently was. He hadn't even known he had done anything to be angry with, and yet here he was about to discuss it.
"Ron..." he said gently. "So, what's the matter? Are you mad at me?"
"What does it bloody look like?" Ron shot him a glare, like a thousand miniature knives shooting from his eyes. Harry flinched.
"Er... all right. Why are you mad at me then?" His voice was purposely smooth and calm. However this only seemed to make Ron more irate.
"As if you don't know." Ron snapped.
"I'm afraid I don't." Harry admitted. Ron let out an exasperated sigh.
"Why did you give the Thunderbolt to Ginny instead of me? I though I was your best friend!" Now that was unexpected. But he should have guessed it was coming; Ron had always been the jealous type.
"I... well..." Harry paused, carefully thinking of how he should word what he was about to say. "Well, you already have a new broom, and Ginny really needed one. Er - I mean, you know what it's like trying to play Quidditch on a Shooting Star. And it was starting to... molt." Harry explained, nervousness creeping into his voice. He didn't really know why he had chosen to give the Thunderbolt to Ginny instead of Ron, it had just seemed like the logical thing to do at the time. "Honestly, Ron, I didn't do it to hurt you. It just seemed like the right thing to do." There - he had been truthful. Ron sighed, and Harry saw his shoulders relax, his glare soften into a hurt yet forigiving gaze.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I guess I was just jealous is all. I mean, it's a Thunderbolt!" Ron admitted shamefully.
"It's okay. I guess I understand." Harry smiled, glad to have his friend back. "I promise, if I get another one, you'll be the first to receive it!" Ron chuckled.
"As if that will happen. Do you have any idea how much they cost?" Harry shook his head. "Come to think of it, I wonder how my brothers afforded that." Ron seemed to be doing calculations in his head. "Hey! They must be rich! Maybe they'll buy me one for my birthday." Ron said hopefully.
"Maybe they will." Harry grinned. The two friends gathered up Harry's things, and went inside to meet the girls.
The next day after a long, hard practice, Harry and Ginny arrived back at the Burrow sore and roasting. When they stepped inside, Harry immediately plopped down on the sofa, using one hand to hold up his head. Ginny sat down on the other end of the couch, stretched her legs out and rested her feet in his lap.
"I think my brain is cooking." She stated blandly, her eyelids drooping slightly over glazed pupils. Harry mumbled inaudibly in return. His nostrils twitched upwards as he noticed a bad smell coming from his lap.
"Ugh... Weasley your feet stink." Harry coughed, waving his hand in front of his nose.
"Well what do you expect? We've just been playing quidditch for 3 hours and it's atrociously hot outside!" She retorted.
"I thought girls weren't supposed to smell." Harry said, carefully removing Ginny's feet from his lap with his fingers.
"Shows what you know." She picked up an old copy of the Daily Prophet from the coffee table and began fanning herself with it. Harry didn't respond. It was true; he was a complete idiot when it came to girls. Instead he just sighed, wishing there was some way to stop his insides from boiling.
"I wish there was some way to cool off." He articulated his thoughts.
"We could go swimming," Ginny suggested. Harry sat up straight and looked at her astounded, his eyes staring with disbelief; she continued fanning herself lazily with the paper.
"You mean to tell me that we've been sweating to death for a fortnight and we could have been swimming the whole time?" Harry said slightly perturbed. "Why didn't you mention that earlier? Like, two weeks ago!" He questioned. Ginny just shrugged.
"I didn't think of it until now." Harry rolled his eyes.
"Well, let's not wait any longer! Come on!" Harry jumped up and grabbed Ginny's wrist, wrenching her from the couch. The Daily Prophet flew from her hand and she stumbled forward, nearly knocking them both to the ground. Harry laughed. "Come on, let's go!"
Harry waited for Ginny in the hallway at the top of the stairs to the first floor. He wore only his pair of cut-off shorts, which he was using as a swimsuit since the Dursleys' had never bought him a real one. His lean yet muscular shoulders rested against the wall, his hair messily spiked all over his head and falling into his brilliant green eyes. He sighed impatiently, wanting nothing but to get to the pond as quickly as possible. Ginny appeared a few moments later. She was wearing a red bikini and had a towel wrapped around her thin waist. Harry looked her over, examining her delicate curves. Her skin was creamy pale except for her face and arms which were covered with a scattering of freckles. Ginny seemed to be doing the same to him, her eyes resting on his stomach, then his chest, then his shoulders before finally smiling up at his face. Harry grinned at her.
"Ready to go?" He asked. She nodded and they walked outside together. Hermione and Ron were seated under a tree, chatting quietly. They waved at the two as they saw them approach.
Harry ran to the pond and jumped in with a loud splash. His head popped out of the murky water and he shook his hair out of his eyes. Ginny was testing the water with her toes, carefully putting one foot in before stepping into the water up to her ankles. Her towel had been thrown to the side of the pond, and Harry noticed her legs were quite long and muscular. He dove underneath the water and swam close to where Ginny was slowly inching herself in. He surfaced a few feet from where she stood, quickly crossed the distance between them, and grabbed her. She screamed and flailed her arms and legs at him in defense, but Harry was too strong and hurled her into the depths of the pond.
Harry stood at the edge proudly, his body glistening in the sun. She rose from the water, a scowl across her face, gasping for air.
"You are so dead." She growled.
"Oh am I now? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?" He responded cheekily, a twinkle in his eyes.
"Just you wait, Harry Potter. I'll get you." Ginny cursed. Ron was howling from where he and Hermione sat. Hermione glared at him and elbowed him in the side until he stopped.
"Believe me, Harry, she's tougher than she looks!" Ron called.
"Well, obviously not tough enough, seeing as how wet she is at the moment." Harry smirked, chuckling.
"That's it!" Ginny shouted. She swam towards Harry, arms deftly cutting through the water. But Harry had seen her coming and was already running from the pond as she approached. Harry ran into the orchard, Ginny not far behind. He darted behind a tree, using it to block her. They circled around, Harry smirking and laughing, Ginny scowling, her jaw set in determination, her eyes never leaving Harry's form.
"Give up yet?" Harry challenged.
"Not until you pay." She growled. They circled the tree a few times more, before Harry sprinted off again. Only this time Ginny caught up. She grabbed his shoulder and he spun around, grabbing her wrist in defense. But Harry lost his footing and felt himself falling, pulling Ginny down with him. They landed with a loud thud on the grassy ground in between two shrubby trees. Harry winced slightly as the air was knocked from his lungs.
Ginny grabbed his wrists and pinned them to his side, straddling his legs with her own so he couldn't move. They breathed heavily, catching their breath from the chase. Water dripped from Ginny's hair and down her nose and onto Harry's bare chest. His own hair was splayed wildly about his head, dripping water into his eyes and on the grass below him.
"So, who's tougher now?" Ginny asked defiantly. Harry grinned.
"Certainly not you." He teased.
"You are so dead, Potter." She began tickling Harry. He laughed in rasping gasps and rolled around underneath her, trying ineptly to stop her roaming hands. Finally she stopped, sitting up triumphantly. Harry gasped, breathing hard from her torture.
"Well?" She leaned over him, looking him square in the eye. Her brown eyes searched his, a twinkle of revenge in their muddy depths.
"Okay, okay. You're tough, Ginny." Harry conceded to avoid another tickle attack.
"Thank you." She smiled. Harry regained his composure, and realized he was now pinned under a beautiful, deliciously determined girl. She was still smiling over him, her damp hair falling over her shoulders, shrouding Harry's head in an orange veil. He felt something stir inside him, matched in the crotch of his jeans. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears.
Harry reached up and touched her cheek gently, instinctively. Ginny froze, her eyes fluttering to meet his. Then they softened, a warmth spread through them, and he swore he recognized desire in their chocolately abyss. He could see her chest moving up and down quickly, feel her hot breath against the palm of his hand. Harry swallowed. Ginny closed her eyes, leaning forward to meet his mouth. Harry did the same. The pink skin of her lips brushed against his, millimeters away, her soft breath warming his cheek. He was just about to catch her mouth in his when he heard his name.
"Harry! Ginny!" It was Hermione. "Oh!" She gasped. Harry felt Ginny stiffen above him, her mouth jolt away from his, hair whipping him in the face as she rolled away from him. They were both still breathing hard as Harry's eyes focused on the bushy-haired girl standing before them. "I'm so sorry, guys. I had no idea. I'll leave now." Hermione began to back away.
Harry sat up and looked over at Ginny. Her back was straight and her eyes searching the trees, not daring to meet his. No, the moment was lost. Hermione leaving would not get it back.
"It's okay, Hermione." He spoke, an ounce of disappointment creeping into his voice as it swept through him.
"Are you sure?" Hermione looked nervous. She chewed her bottom lip furiously.
Harry nodded. "Yeah. We were just about to go back, right, Gin?" He looked over at the red haired girl sitting next to him. Her ears had turned bright red, a matching blush across her cheeks. She nodded silently. Yes, she is definitely Ron's sister, Harry thought, chuckling to himself. He got up and extended a hand to Ginny to help her to her feet. She took it and stood up. They both smiled at each other sheepishly and then turned to go back to the house with Hermione.
Ginny walked in front with Hermione and Harry not far behind.
"I'm really sorry, Harry. I just wanted to make sure she wasn't beating you up." Hermione whispered to him as they walked through the trees. "If I had known.."
"It's okay, Hermione." Harry interrupted. She looked at him questioningly for a moment, then smiled, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. Just as they exited the orchard, she turned to him, a mischievious twinkle in her eyes.
"So, you and Ginny, eh?"
"Shut up."
The heat was sweltering in Ron's room, the air thick, almost palpable. Harry was stretched out languidly on his cot, looking catlike. He wished he could do a cooling spell, but instead fanned himself with a piece of scrap parchment. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin. It was cooler outside - Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all out there now - but here he could get some peace and quiet, could think of what had happened earlier with Ginny in the orchard.
There was no trying to lie to himself now. He was attracted to Ginny Weasley. However it was nothing like it had been with Cho. He didn't get butterflies in his stomach whenever he was around her, didn't babble and lose all mental control. He simply liked her, enjoyed her company, and felt drawn to her physically as well. There wasn't really any awkwardness or nervousness involved in it, it just was. He wasn't sure if he was ready to ask her out on a date or anything, but he was comfortable with his feelings for her. But then, she seemed to like him too. He felt she had wanted the kiss as much as he had, had seen the desire in her eyes. What would have happened if Hermione hadn't interrupted them? Would they be dating then? Harry found the prospect not at all unpleasant. In fact, he wanted it - he wanted her.
His thoughts drifted to how she had comforted him two weeks ago. He hadn't really thought about what had happened in the woods with Ginny before now. It didn't seem odd to him that he had opened up to her then. She was his friend, after all. Ron was too, of course, but as loyal as he was he had a certain clumsiness and way of reacting to things that didn't allow Harry to be fully open with him. Hermione was the same, only lacking the awkwardness. Instead she was a little too opinionated; she didn't know when to just listen. He loved Ron and Hermione dearly, but their relationship wasn't quite the same as his and Ginny's. Ginny seemed to know instinctively what Harry needed, when to pry further and when to remain silent. He appreciated that more than she could possibly know. He hadn't realized how much he had bottled up inside, how much it was eating him whole, like a vampire feeding on his very soul.
Ginny. What was it about her that made him open up to her so easily? Being with her in those woods had seemed natural, like water flowing smoothly downstream. Yes, she had a knack for knowing how to act with him, but that wasn't it. He felt comfortable with her, as if he could tell her anything and she would understand. Maybe that's what it was; she understood him. They both had been manipulated by Voldemort, both had survived. She knew what it was to feel vulnerable and helpless, guilty and shameful. Harry nodded and smiled to himself, pleased that he had figured it out.
And yet, something had changed within him in those woods that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He knew that his hurt had subsided somewhat since then, that he no longer felt depression's cold hand gripping on to him so tightly. There was still the guilt, but he never really expected that to ever go away. He sighed. Perhaps he would never know. He felt he should thank Ginny, in any case. And maybe ask her out on a date while I'm at it, he thought.
"Harry!" Ginny burst through the bedroom door a few minutes later. Harry sat up and smiled at her.
"Hey Gin. I want just about to go find you. I..." Harry paused. Ginny stood by the door panting. The colour had drained from her face and she looked as though she was about to cry. "Gin, is everything okay?" Harry frowned, a concerned look on his face. He felt anger bubbling up within him. If anyone had hurt her he would make them regret it. Ginny walked across the room and sat on the end of his bed.
"Oh, Harry," she whimpered. "They found Tonks..." Tears began to fall from her eyes. Harry's heart jumped into his throat at the sight of her in such pain. He reached out and touched her arm. She wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. "She... she was tortured by Death Eaters. She showed up at Grimmauld Place - they don't know how she got there. She's gone insane, Harry. She just babbles." Harry's heart shattered. He hugged Ginny close. He imagined the sweet, clumsy girl being tortured to the brink of her sanity by Death Eaters, having to fight them off alone. Tears formed in his eyes, glistening in the bright sun that filtered through the window.
"Wh-what does this mean, Gin? Is she gonna be okay?" He managed to choke out. Ginny loosened her grip on him, looked straight into his eyes. Her pupils were huge, frightened. She looked as though she was about to break.
"She's trying to warn us, Harry. We have to leave. Death Eaters are coming." Harry felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. Leave the Burrow? But where would they go? And why were they coming here at all? "We're leaving in an hour." She finished. He searched her eyes. He wished she was joking, but his heart knew she wasn't.
Ginny stood up, her head falling to her chest, eyes downcast. She leaned forward, placed a kiss firmly on his forehead. "I'm so sorry, Harry." She whispered, and then ran from the room, leaving Harry alone to comprehend what she had just said. Shock took over. He stared blankly at the wall, his eyes wide. He could feel Ginny's saliva drying on his forehead, and touched it with his fingers. Surely this must be a bad dream, he thought. This can't be happening.
The atmosphere downstairs was positively grim as Harry walked into the kitchen a few minutes later. Mrs. Weasley was packing some things into an old leather suitcase on the floor - the family clock, some dishes and other assorted things - her eyes red and puffy from crying. Arthur paced back and forth, one hand on his chin, the other across his chest; he looked deep in thought, a scowl plastered across his normally jovial face. Ron sat at the kitchen table, staring vacantly into space, clutching one of Hermione's hands as she rubbed his back, trying to comfort him. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot, tears still trickling down her cheeks. Ginny was crouched in the corner, clasping her knees, her tiny body shaking. Harry crossed the room and sat next to her. She rested her head on his shoulder; he felt wetness spread across the fabric of his shirt.
There was a loud crack as Fred and George apparated into the room. The normally cheery brothers were quiet, somber. Mrs. Weasley ran and hugged her sons, holding them tightly.
Mr. Weasley stopped pacing, clearing his throat as he tried to regain his composure, and then began to speak. "As you all know, Death Eaters will arrive here shortly," he said, trying to maintain an aloof expression, "Dumbledore has owled us saying to floo to Grimmauld Place immediately. He... he doesn't know when we will be able to return." His voice cracked, his façade breaking. Harry's stomach lurched as he thought of returning to Grimmauld Place. Moreover of never being allowed back at the Burrow. "Children, please go upstairs to your rooms and pack your things. Be back in half an hour sharp. Under no circumstances are you to leave this house." Arthur said gravely.
Harry and the others gathered themselves up and returned to their quarters. They packed in dismal silence.
Harry stumbled out of the kitchen fireplace at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Ron and Mr. Weasley behind him. His trunk landed with a loud thunk on the cold stone floor. He scanned the room, which looked the same as he had seen it last. Only this time Sirius would not be there to greet them.
Mad-eye Moody and Remus Lupin were sitting at the table. Lupin was slouched in a chair, looking tired and miserable, staring at the floor. He glanced up at the sound of them arriving, and gave Harry a weak smile. Harry nodded and gave his best smile in return, though he was sure he looked about as tragic as his ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher did. He dropped down onto his trunk, resting his head between his hands. His mind swam, still not quite comprehending what was happening. All he knew was that he now sat in the last place he wanted to be, with perhaps the exception of Voldemort's lair. Dumbledore glided into the room, his purple robes swirling around him. He looked drained, his eyes lacking their usual sparkle. He cleared his throat.
"It is with much regret that I welcome you all here." Dumbledore began. "I know you all are aware of the circumstances that bring you here. However, I will say that it appears that Voldemort is getting impatient. His goal in discovering Harry's whereabouts has succeeded, and as such the Burrow is no longer a safe place to be. Tonks - bless her - has fortunately warned us in time. She is at St. Mungo's now recovering." Harry's heart went out to the pink-haired metamorphagus, thanked her for her bravery. "So, please everyone make yourself at home here. Your rooms are the same as they were on your last visit. Lupin and Mad-eye will help you with your things. I, howeber, have some other things to attend to." He finished. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley began gathering their things.
"Er... Professor Dumbledore?" Ron spoke. Dumbledore turned to him and nodded for him to continue. "Will we still be able to play Quidditch?"
"That I will have to see about. It is possible."
Quidditch. Harry had forgotten about it in the shock of everything that was happening. Would they be stopped from playing because of him? No, he couldn't do that to them.
"I'll stop." Harry offered. His eyes held a certainty within them; He would not ruin the chances of his friends continuing to play.
"No, Harry, you can't!" Ginny cried out. "You're our seeker!"
"There are extra players that can take my place. Besides, if I need to stop so you both can continue playing, then I will." He said matter of factly.
"Thank you Harry. However that may not be necessary. I will discuss this with your coach as well as some others, and see what can be arranged." Ron, Ginny and Harry all nodded at Dumbledore's response. They turned to gather their things to take upstairs. "Harry, I need to speak with you for a moment. Ron, Ginny, could you please go upstairs?" Dumbledore requested.
Once everyone had gone, Dumbledore sat on one of the many chairs around the large table, his grey beard hanging over the edge of it. He motioned for Harry to take a seat across from him, then rested his hand on the table, his long fingers elegantly splaying on the wood. Harry watched him carefully, wondering what this was about. After a few minutes, Dumbledore spoke.
"Harry, I am glad to see you are doing well. I must admit I have been worried about you. Though I see the Weasley's have been taking good care of you, and I am greatful for that." He paused and drew a long breath before starting again. "I'm sure the death of Sirius has been hard on you, as it has on many of us. However, there are some things that come with his death that I must discuss with you." Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a large lump forming in his throat. "You see, Harry, in his will he left you as the beneficiary of most of his estate. This house has been left to the Order, but much of what lies inside of it now belongs to you. Sirius's personal belongings, his funds, the furnishings and Buckbeak are yours, Harry. You may do with it what you wish. I do not expect you to decide now. I would be more than happy to look after it for you until you have decided what to do with it.
"Also, you must be very careful, Harry. Voldemort seems to be becoming very anxious, and I'm afraid he will stop at nothing to see you dead. You are safe here, of course. However I do think I know of a way in which you can continue to play Quidditch while still remaining safe. I will have to discuss it with the Ministry first, however." Harry didn't trust himself to speak, and so he nodded, slowly taking in all the new information. Dumbledore fished in his pocket before extracting two keys. One was small and gold, the other one larger and worn, made of brass. These he handed to Harry, along with explanations of what they belonged to. The smaller was for a vault at Gringott's Bank, the larger was to Sirius' private chambers which were located on the uppermost floor of Grimmauld Place. Harry kept nodding to show he understood.
When they were finished, Dumbledore smiled down at Harry lovingly. "Take care, Harry, and thank you for your time. I must be off, but I'm sure I will see you soon enough." Then he disapparated with a loud crack.
Harry sat in the chair for twenty minutes, moving the keys around in his hand where Dumbledore had placed them, feeling their cold weight in his palm. He wondered how many times Sirius' fingers had touched the keys, how he could possibly use them knowing they had come to him at the price of Sirius' life. He focused on the cabinet against the wall, where Kreacher used to live. Harry was sure if he was still here he would have wrung the little elf's neck. He sighed and stood up. He took hold of his trunk, and then plodded up the stairs.
Instead of going to his and Ron's room on the second floor, Harry continued to climb until he reached the top level. He padded down the short hallway, passing only one door on his right (that contained Buckbeak, but he would visit him later), before reaching the door at the end. He drew out the large brass key from his pocket, placed it in the lock, and heard a loud clunk as the bolt turned over. He pushed the door open, and, squinting, stepped inside.
Sirius' room was enormous, probably five times the size of the room he shared in Gryffindor Tower. There were dark maple floors, and a large expanse of windows on the two adjacent walls to the doorway. A large mahogany bed towered in the center of the room, draped in black velvet curtains which matched the draperies that hung on all the windows. To the left of the bed was an antique dresser, one of its drawers hanging open. In front of the right set of windows was a large burgundy couch and three chairs, centered around a coffee table and an elegant white, marble fireplace. To the left of the door that Harry had come through was another door that led into a giant bathroom with a gigantic black marble tub. To the right was a small desk littered with parchments and quills, and there, lying on the top of the desk, was the mirror which matched the one Harry had received. The whole room looked as though it hadn't been touched since Sirius' death. The bed was still unmade, a cloak hung over a chair in the corner, and a pile of dirty clothes lay at the foot of the bed.
Harry stepped forward, not wanting to disturb anything that might still contain a hint of Sirius. And yet he felt the urge to take in every last inch of it, bathe in whatever pieces of his godfather that remained. He crept over to the chair by the window, delicately touched the cloak that draped over it. His knees gave away as his fingers closed around the fabric. He fell to the floor with a dull thud, the cloak settling around him. He hugged it close to him, breathed in the aroma that was uniquely Sirius. Tears began streaming down his cheeks, his body racked with sobs. And there he remained for hours, crouched on the floor, crying out his pain. When night fell, when he became too tired to stay awake any longer, he curled up on the floor, his knees pulled to his chest. He clutched the cloak to his lithe, boyish body; his head snuggled into its dark folds, and fell asleep.
Harry's dreams were plagued with images of Sirius. Memories of his life, of his death, like apparitions of the past come to haunt Harry's mind. One dream, however, had been lacking the handsome animagus, and this one was far worse than any horrid memory.
There was darkness, heavy black darkness that hung in the air like thick, syrupy death. In this inky gloom stood three hooded figures, their shadows illuminated by a smoldering fire to their left. They were perfectly still, but Harry could feel their fear coursing through the air like electricity. He stared at them, anger bubbling into his throat and flowing through his veins like fire.
"How dare you let that girl get away! Do you know what this means? DO YOU?" He hissed. But his voice was not his own. Instead it was cold and razor sharp. Harry - or Voldemort, for they were one and the same here - watched the Death Eaters in front of him shake their heads fearfully. Rage boiled inside him again. "I'll teach you to ever fail me again! CRUCIO!"
Harry awoke screaming, his scar searing with pain. It sent bolts of scorching agony through his brain, like tiny white-hot needles piercing through every inch of flesh and bone. Harry hugged the cloak more tightly, clenching his teeth together as his body gave in to the suffering, shaking violently. And there, behind the pain, was pure, evil enjoyment. High-pitched squeals of laughter emerged from the recesses of his mind, from Voldemort. Please. Please stop, Harry screamed in his mind.
Then there were arms gently folding around him, soft words speaking his name, bringing him back to reality. "Harry! Harry, it's okay, I'm here." Ginny cooed, her voice as smooth and sweet as honey. Harry's eyes flew open, his breathing rasping and irregular. Her fingers were gliding through his hair again, comforting him. He snuggled into her warmth. Eventually the pain in his scar diminished, his breathing slowing to a regular rate. But still he clung to Ginny, like a scared child to his mother. "It's okay, Harry. Everything's fine. I'm here." She breathed. He could hear her heart beat through her shirt.
"Tonks..." Harry whimpered into Ginny's chest. She looked down at him, her eyes filled to the brim with cocern. "Voldemort... He - he's punishing his D-Death Eaters for letting her go."
"Oh, Harry." Ginny pulled him close. "It's okay. He's not here. It's just you and me." He heard a soft hoot from above him. "And Hedwig." Ginny added.
"Thank you." Harry mumbled.
"No need to thank me, Harry." She replied softly. Harry disentangled himself from her and sat up, the inky cloak pooling around his legs. His neck and back ached from sleeping on the hard floor. He squinted in the morning light that was pouring through the large windows, stretched his arms above his head in an attempt to ease the ache in his shoulders. His heart dropped as he looked around the room and remembered where he was. Ginny sat in front of him on the floor, Hedwig behind him perched on one of the burgundy chairs.
"Are you okay?" Ginny asked.
"Yeah," he replied, though in all honesty he wasn't really sure. But he decided not to share that with anyone, rationalizing that they had enough to deal with without the extra weight of his problems.
"Okay." She got up. "Well, I just came up to invite you down to breakfast."
"Sure. I'll be down in a minute." Ginny nodded and walked to the door, took one last look at him and then disappeared into the hallway.
Hedwig hopped down next to him on the floor, affectionately nibbling his shorts. "Good morning, Hedwig." Harry greeted the snowy white owl. He patted her absently as he collected his thoughts. He remembered last night, fleeing the burrow, speaking to Dumbledore, crying for hours. He drew the cloak up around his torso. It was stark black and soft to the touch, thin yet warm. Harry sighed.
The Death Eaters had been after him, that's why they had had to flee the burrow. It was his fault they were here, that the Weasley's were without a home. It was his fault that Sirius was not here to greet them, that Tonks was in St. Mungo's. His heart settled in the pit of his stomach like a hard stone. No, too many things had happened because of him, too much hurt and too much suffering. Harry fought with himself. He couldn't let it happen again. Sirius was dead, and it was his fault, he would not allow anyone else he loved to be killed because of him. And so despite how much he needed them, Harry chose to withdraw from his friends for their sake, for their lives.
AN: PLEASE review! I'll give you digital candy! Thanks to all of you who have taken the time to review. I really appreciate it! A special thanks to Tanith Devika for reviewing all my chapters. Chapter 5 is currently being beta'd so it shouldn't take longer than a week to put up.