Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any related characters, as any one who isn't as dumb as Crabbe should already know…
A/N: Thank you for reviewing everyone! Due to many requests, I have obviously decided to continue this fic. I'm thinking it will be between five and six chapters, as the path of love never does run smooth…this chapter explains a little bit of the history between Harry, Ginny, and the letters, so it won't get particularly fluffy until the end.
Isabella Pontes De Compos: Happy Birthday! And thanks for reviewing!
The Perfect Fit The Injustice of it AllThat night, long after "Ron's snored filled his blindingly orange room, Harry lay awake. But for once, it wasn't because he was afraid to go to sleep. For at least one night Harry was not worried about being plagued with images of death in his dreams.
He was unsure how he felt about what his mind was occupied with instead…for floating through his mind were visions of a beautiful redhead…and it wasn't Ron. No, the fiery siren was none other than Ginny Weasley: Ginny laughing at dinner, Ginny drowsing on the couch, Ginny's petite form in his arms as he carried her to her room (a mellow shade of green, thank Merlin).
Harry was startled form his thoughts as Ron gave a particularly loud snort. The small smile that had settled on Ron's lips lead Harry to believe that he was dreaming of either a.) Hermione, or b.) food.
"Yeah, right there…" Ron mumbled in his sleep.
'Definitely choice "A",' Harry thought.
Not wanting to hear any more bits of his friends fantasies, and unable to get to sleep, Harry grabbed a small box from his trunk and headed downstairs.
Harry settled himself on the worn couch in front of the unlit fireplace, his thoughts once more on Ginny.
He was desperate to find a connection to the Ginny whom he wanted to ravish, and the Ginny whom he had known since he was eleven; the Ginny who had broken through the steel well he had built up around himself over the years with the most insightful letters he had ever read. So unlike Ron and Hermione's letters, which were filled with pity and reassuring phrases such as "don't worry Harry" and "everything will be alright."
He blamed their worry on himself, though. After a year of silence, he had finally told them about the prophecy…And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…Kill, or be killed.
Harry chuckled darkly, no real mirth in his voice.
After his friend's first three letters or so contained nothing but reassuring words, he had merely stopped responding. The simple fact was, he did not need comforting words. He had come to terms with his destiny over the past year, and their fussing only made him uncomfortable. What he needed was a friend. A friend who didn't worry about him keeling over in the near future.
He found that friend in Ginny. Rarely did she ever mention the prophecy, and unlike her oblivious brother, never pried for information. Perhaps this was why he was inclined to open up to her.
Harry looked down at the little wooden box on his lap and took out one of Ginny's letters. It was one of the first she had ever written him.
Dear Harry,
How's life with the muggles? Horrible, huh? Just as I suspected…
Things are fairly normal round here, except for Ron. He's all a flutter. You're not going to believe what he did. Hermione arrived today just as we were sitting down for breakfast, and when he saw her, he plopped his elbow right into the butter dish! Sound familiar? I had to excuse myself from the table I was laughing so hard. Hermione, being the ever so polite girl she is, didn't say anything. She just continued greeting everyone.
Oh, bugger. I have to go. Mum's calling us to degnome the garden again. When will she ever give up?
Hope this reaches you safely!
Love from,
Ginny Weasley
Many of her letters were like that; a daily account of what happened at the Burrow, connecting him to his surrogate family. As the summer wore on, though, the letters became more intimate. He would share with her his nightmares and fears, and in return she would relay her experiences with Tom Riddle.
Perhaps Ginny having been possessed by Voldemort was the reason she understood what he needed. She had an intimate view of Voldemort that Ron and Hermione lacked. She knew everything might not turn out all right.
"Harry?" someone said groggily.
The raven-haired boy looked up to see the girl he had been obsessing about for the last half hour standing before him. Harry's emerald eyes widened as he took in Ginny's state of dress. She was standing before him in naught but an over sized t-shirt…wait…was that his shirt?
"Er…hi, Ginny…"
The redheaded vixen looked down to see what he was staring at.
"Oh," Ginny said softly, blushing deep scarlet and tugging the t-shirt down. "Sorry…I didn't think I would run into anyone this time of night…"
"Is that my shirt?"
"Is it?" she blushed another shade. "I just grabbed one from Ron's room like usual…I didn't realize…"
"It's okay, Gin," Harry reassured, giving her a warm smile.
She finally looked up from her feet, her honey colored eyes seeking his green ones.
"Thanks."
Silence fell between the two, and Harry was desperately searching for something to say when Ginny spotted the letter in his hand.
"Watcha reading?"
It was now Harry's turn to blush. He looked at down at his bare feet and mumbled, "Some of your old letters."
"Well, I reckon the real thing is better than letters, right?" Ginny asked, giving him a playful smile.
Harry looked up at her teasing lips and nodded. "Definitely."
"So what are you doing up at this hour?" Harry inquired of the young witch as she sat on the cushion beside him.
"Nightmare."
"You wanna talk about it?"
Ginny looked at him with doleful eyes, apparently remembering the dream, and shook her head no.
"Just…can you just…"
"What is it Gin?"
"Could you just sit with me for awhile?"
Harry nodded and a relaxed silence fell around the room. Harry placed the letter back in the box, moved the little wooden square to the floor, and settled into a more comfortable position in the squishy couch. He could feel sleep lingering just behind his eyes. What time was it anyway? It was after midnight when he came down, so it had to be nearing one o' clock by now…
Ginny nestled herself more comfortably next to him, and Harry draped an arm around her shoulders, reassuring her that he was there for her. She sighed contentedly, shutting her eyes, and allowed herself to melt into him. He responded by resting his head against Ginny's, letting the silken strands caress his cheek. He wasn't going to be able to stay awake much longer…
"…Harry?"
Neither was Ginny, judging by the sleepy tones emanating from her normally melodious voice.
"Mmm?" he answered vaguely, signaling Ginny to continue.
"…. This is really nice…of you…"
Harry gave a little nod of his head. His speaking capabilities were severely limited when Ginny was this close.
"…you smell like …clouds…"
"Ginny…? Is it alright if I…"
But the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest told Harry his young witch was fast asleep.
'…kiss you?' Harry finished in his head.
……………………………………………………………………………………………..
Harry was vaguely aware that every muscle in his body was aching in pain. He cracked an eye open and looked down, his neck screaming in protest.
'Oh,' Harry thought, surprise over taking his handsome face.
He was looking down at a scantily clad Ginny, her head resting gently in his lap with his hands entwined in her crimson hair. He laid his head on the back of the couch and shut his eyes, trying to block the billions of thoughts currently befuddling his brain.
This was not good…this was very not good…he had better get her up before—"HANKY PANKY! HANKY PANKY!"
Harry's eyes snapped open to reveal Fred, yelling at the top of his lungs.
Ginny stirred and slowly sat up, stretching like a cat, eyes still shut.
"HANKY PANKY!"
Ginny's eyes popped open, going from Harry, to Fred, then back to Harry. A look of terror crossed her face as Fred continued to yell.
Harry very much wanted to comfort her, but most unfortunately, his heart had stopped beating, leaving him unable to move, waiting to see what would happen. They wouldn't kick him out of the house, would they? It was only an accident…
Mrs.Weasley stormed down the stairs, her plump body wrapped in a fluffy pink dressing gown.
"Fred! What is going on here? Would you keep it—GINEVRA WEASLEY! PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!"
"I found them down here mum. They were snuggling," Fred teased.
"No! Well, I mean, we were, but it wasn't, erm…" Harry floundered.
Luckily, Ginny jumped in. "It was an accident mum. I woke up in the middle of the night, and Harry was down here. We were talking, but we must have fallen asleep. I'm really sorry, mum."
Harry nodded fervently, confirming Ginny's version of events.
Mrs.Weasley seemed to accept the story, but a stern look still held her features.
"Alright you two…but don't let it happen again," The older witch waggled a finger at them as she spoke. "Now hurry up and get dressed for breakfast."
The young miscreants did not have to be told twice. They practically raced from the living room, as Fred whined, "That's it? You're not even going to scold them? Oh the injustice of it all…"
They reached Ginny's room first, and she turned to him.
"I'm really sorry Harry. I shouldn't have fallen asleep like that. It's all my—"
Harry put his index finger on Ginny's soft lips, silencing her.
Ginny gasped as electric tingles raced through her body at his touch.
Moving his hand he brushed away a stray lock of hair, then cupped her face, his thumb tenderly stroking her jawbone.
"I'm not."
A/N- Wow, it is officially 3:07 in the morning, so give me a break with this chapter, huh? My mind went a bit fuzzy by the end. Please review, so I know I haven't wasted my precious sleep hours for nothing!
