Chapter 2: The best part of waking up

I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat.

Sir Winston Churchill

Harry awoke with a start; and immediately wished he hadn't. Like a silent movie events from before rolled through his mind. Everything at once started to ache as he was reminded of his injuries. He wished he had a time turner right about now. Even being confronted with those creatures was preferable than facing the upcoming conflict. He didn't want everyone to know how weak he was. Maybe he could play off his injuries to his magical attackers. Would that work? Maybe everyone could just pretend along with him. Carry on like everything was okay. It's not as though that would be an entirely new concept. Dumbledore's calm explanation of the deadly ultimatum proved how much people could delude themselves. Voldemort or him. One or the other. One murderer, one dead. And there was actually some percentage of Dumbledore's brain that thought he would win? Just look at past experience. Only one of them ever had any practice killing- and it sure wasn't him. At least directly…

Sirius began to tumble through the veil behind his eyelids. Then suddenly it wasn't Sirius, but Cedric.

"I know you're up." Chimed a voice.

Harry took a sharp, spontaneous breath in from the combination of both the physical intrusion into his isolation, and the image his imagination italicized on his proverbial slideshow.

"I told you so."

Groggily his brain tried to grasp and identify the voice. He mentally rolled through the names he knew, searching for a match like a slot machine randomly rolling through the random choices for the last selection. The wheel abruptly stopped; Ginny.

"No I'm not."

He became aware that his mouth seemed to answer for him, not allowing the message to pass through his brain first; because Harry instantly characterized the comment as insane, and not at all accomplishing what he wanted to do. Sulking, he tried sinking into his pillows and wished he could evaporate. What was the use of having an invisibility cloak if you can't use it for moments like these?

"Really?" He realized offhand and after the fact, that Ginny had poked him, "It looks like Harry-"

"Not Harry. Looks are very deceiving. Harry's not here." His mouth seemed to want to continue the chimera.

"Bloody hell! I better get Tonks and Bill to deal with this imposter-!" Harry actually heard her jump up and start to scramble to the door, forcing him into a response.

"Ginny." His voice was a plead, which was the only thing that made her drop the act completely, and save him from the merciless teasing his comments should have mustered.

He felt a hand on his forehead, brushing his damp disheveled charcoaled hair aside. His breath caught again and his body involuntarily jerked back at the foreign contact. While he tried to think of the way a normal way to react to whatever she was doing he felt cool metal slide against his skin, which his brain lethargically learned as his glasses.

"Shh, I'm just giving you you're glasses." She confirmed.

"Why are you here?" His lips let out, entirely on it's own accord. It seemed none of his body was connected to his mind, and it was really starting to get quite infuriating.

It was on the tip of her tongue to just call him a git, and that she could just leave him and his unawake self alone, to undoubtedly broad about everything, until he found a way to blame it on himself; but she reined it in. It wasn't that he didn't care about her feelings, she decided eventually evaluating the situation and his responses, rather he didn't expect her to be concerned about him.

"Because I care." The words fell off her tongue, before logic could interfere and change the statement to take away some of the scary implications it held. It's response was immediate however. She was rewarded with the disclosure of two bright green orbs, hidden behind hideous black, conspicuously spherical frames, that had more tape showing through then actual metal.

He was rewarded with a slight he had thought he would never see; a flustered, insecure Ginny. He knew all the signs all right, he certainly was not a stranger to the emotion, and she was gloriously displaying them all. Her eyes didn't hold his, they were cast downwards, making her hair cascade down her shoulders in a bright red stream, and capture the light in the room. She held her bottom lip with a small, perfect white tooth, changing the color to a slightly deeper red. Following her gaze, he watched as her hands seemed to take on a life of their own, moving in little, inconsequential gestures, that spoke volumes to her state of mind. Everything Ginny did was deliberate. Oddly, it filled him with some sort of fake sense of confidence.

"What I mean-" Ginny started, looking up, trying to draw in on a confidence and determination that wasn't there, in a desperate intent to nullify it, change it to fall along the lines of a safe platonic friendship-- until she caught his eyes. Instantly they went from hope to despair, and her voice refused to go on. How could she take away that truth from him? And that's what it was- the categorical, complete, unedited certain truth. Truth was that she had always held him a little differently in her mind, a little better, on some unattainable plain that she secretly always wished she could reach. So who was she to deny him that? The words were already out. She sighed, then swallowed.

"What I mean," She started again, with a fixed, determined stare, "is exactly that. That Bill rushed in, reeling about an attack, an attack against you, and the only place I could be and feel half way all right was right here."

Ginny watched as his eyes became unfocused, trying to deal with what she just said.

"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know." She allocated after a few seconds hesitation, waiting for a response.

Her voice was soft and sounded like music to him. He swallowed hard. Why did this have to happen right now? He was still trying to deal with last night, still trying to concoct a story about his shoulder, still trying to wake up. He closed his eyes, wishing this conversation took place after he had just caught the snitch to win the house cup, or at least at an emotionally neutral point. It didn't even have to be a high point; just not one of the lowest points in his life. Not when he couldn't even tell left from right, up from down. But he couldn't just ignore this new development. This couldn't be left until latter. She had said it now. And he needed to respond now, or never.

"It's not that Gin." He responded, picking up her reasoning for proclaiming the last sentence.

He felt her look up and he opened his eyes.

"It's not that I don't feel that too. I just-" He sighed and slowly clasped her hand, if nothing else to still her movements, "Me too."

He frowned as she appeared to become more disheveled. He had thought this disclosure would make her happy, would relieve the tension that seemed to be releasing from her in waves.

"You- you don't have to just say that. It's not your job to make everybody feel better. I know you don't feel-"

"Gin, that might just be the most difficult thing I've ever admitted in my life. Please don't just throw it away." He cut in quietly.

There was silence for a few seconds.

"I thought a declaration of feeling such like this would be accompanied with some sort of happiness, or hug, or some sort of positive emotion at least." Harry conversationally concluded, breaking through the silence stochastically.

Ginny moved to the bed. A short sob broke through. "I- I just never thought… I never imagined that you would possibly feel the same way too."

Harry looked down at his hand that was so casually clasped in hers and contemplated offhandedly how things had progressed so quickly. He looked back up and caught Ginny's eyes.

"How are you feeling?" She whispered, her voice still seeming to hold some lyrical lull.

The question was phrased lightly, but it had an immediate effect. He looked back down. He felt Ginny take his chin in her free hand and brought his head up.

"You're already my hero. You don't have to act strong all the time."

"I'm not trying to be. I'm so confused I don't know how to feel."

"What hurts?"

"My head."

Suddenly Ginny's lips were on his forehead, but before he could even register this fact, they were gone.

"What else?"

"I- I'm not sure this is the best idea."

"How does you're head feel now?"

"Dizzy."

"A little bit of an improvement." He heard her murmur softly before she repeated the action. "How about now?"

"We may be getting somewhere." Harry caved in, only able to grasp how soft and wet her lips were, and how he needed them to be touching his skin again. He was rewarded with another one. He tried to clear his mind and let Ginny's magic work, but he couldn't get the apprehension and fear for the upcoming explanation he would surely have to deliver out of his mind.

"What's wrong?" She asked a few minutes and kisses latter.

His thoughts tumbled into trepidation. He wasn't sure if he could get used to this discloser of every feeling that happened to pass through his brain. Was this what it felt like to be close to someone? A excruciating extraction of every fleeting emotion and happenstance? Another part of his mind reminded him of the benefit's the last revelation had earned him. If he got those kisses just for a headache…

"I don't want to explain to everyone what happened." Harry concluded.

She seemed to think this through tenaciously for a few moments. "Why?"

"I don't want to have to justify and explain myself to everyone."

"Those things attacked you, what is there to justify? You're an underage wizard forbidden to use any magic over the summer.

"I still should have don't something." Harry responded, not to the creatures attacking at all.

"An aura and my brother don't have a clue what those creatures were, they guessed on how to possibly defend themselves. How could you be expected to know?"

He sighed and laid back. He definitely didn't want to get into this conversation. Didn't want to tell her that he wasn't talking about the way he responded to the creatures. He felt Ginny align herself against his body. It seemed that every nerve ending against her was in overdrive. He opened his eyes incredulously. Her face hovered inches above his, their hands still linked.

"Impressive Mr. Potter. Two full admittances without any brooding. You can be taught."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Most certainly."

He stared at her. "I think a recovering attackie from demon women exempts me from any teasing."

"Of coarse not."

"When was this decided?"

"Just now."

He sighed. He felt Ginny sit back up, resulting in only their hips touching. The rest of his side instantly felt cold, missing the connection.

"I'll tell you anything, just lay back down. "Harry reluctantly quirked.

He caught her eyes flash with an emotion he couldn't quite determine, then she was next to him again. She fit her head just above his shoulder and let the hand that wasn't clasped fall onto his chest. She began to absentmindedly amuse herself with the fabric on it. He felt a soft kiss on the skin connecting his neck to his shoulders.

"Is this what you want Mr. Potter?"

"Yes." He hummed. He couldn't whether he felt hot or cold, numb or effervescent. All he knew was that he felt wonderful, and never wanted to go back to reality.

"How long do you think we have?"

"I don't know. I'm supposed to be on watch duty and notify someone if you wake up." She explained, immediately understanding that he meant when the others would come in. "Why?"

"I don't want to start explaining myself if I can't finish." Harry concluded logically.

"I'm not looking for an explanation Harry." She said and gave him a quick peck on his nose as he turned his head, " I just wanted to know what's wrong so I know what to kiss."

He smiled forlornly, and turned his head to stare at the ceiling. Eventually he took a quick breath.

"I don't know how to explain the injuries Vernon gave me."

He felt Ginny sit up a little and turn his face in her hand, so he closed his eyes. He couldn't get this off his chest with her sympathy.

"I don't know how I'll look anyone in the eye after they figure out I can't even defend myself against a muggle."

"Open your eyes Harry."

"Ginny I-"

"Open them."

He sighed and complied, completely content ready to close them and shut himself out as soon as he saw the pity; but recoiled slightly. Ginny met his gaze with steady blue eyes that raged with emotion. An emotion, if he wasn't mistaken, he could swear was anger.

"The only two people with any explaining to do are the sorry excuse for relatives fate has seemed to give you, and how they get off harming their nephew; and Dumbledore for not picking up on this problem and continuing to send you here."

"Not fate." His voice had hardly any volume at all, Ginny only recognizing he said something because her ear lay inches from his mouth.

"What?"

"Not fate." he affirmed again, speaking louder, somehow finding his voice, "Fate didn't land me at the Dursley's."

Her eyes became more steeled. "You're right. There's three people."

"People?"

"Yes, he's a person. A horrible, evil, conniving, soulless person, but a person Harry. A person with the same human qualities as you and I. A person who's flawed, fallible, who can make mistakes; and will, and who bleeds."

"Are you certain?"

"He can be defeated."

"So am I. More so then him, that's for sure." He took a shallow breath as the prophecy progressed through his mind. Some voice in his head told him it would be the perfect time to tell her, but something stopped him.

"You're right. That must be why you've faced him over five times and have won."

"I've prolonged destiny. I've bought time. I've-"

"Lived. You've lived."

Anger started to simmer silently and slowly insider of him, threatening to bubble out, boiling over. He tried quelling it for a few seconds, then disembarked unequivocally from that mission. He needed to shout at someone. He dropped her hand. "No! You don't get it! You know anything about it!"

"Then tell me!" She retorted right back at the same intensity and volume he used, then took a breath to calm herself, "Tell me what you've been keeping bottled up this summer. Tell me what you've found out that's so scary you wont even tell your closest friends."

She watched wearily as his eyes filled up with horror and shock, and she stopped her soliloquy. There was so much she wanted to let out, so much she wanted to ask him; but now was obviously not the right time. Her heart contracted as she saw him shakily stand and slowly swathe his arms, swimming in the oversized dark material, around his small waist. He wandered purposefully over to the window and Ginny gave him a minute before she followed him. She hesitated, then decided, wrapped her arms around him. She rested her head over his shoulder and gave him a little squeeze as she felt him stiffen at the contact.

"Maybe you should go." He articulated apprehensively, as a whisper that showed his emotions were balancing perilously on the edge of some cliff.

"You're not alone."

"Maybe I want to be."

"Nobody wants to be."

"Then maybe I have to be."

"Tell me." She urged, turning her head. She felt him become more tense.

"I don't know if I can do this Ginny." Harry turned around, and Ginny dropped her arms. "I don't know how. I never done any of this stuff. I'm no good at it."

"Then we'll learn together."

"What if I can't learn?" The words escaped his mouth.

She gave him a glorious grin. "I've already determined you can be taught."

She waited watching until his mouth fell into a slow smile. "You were fine lying on the bed earlier, right?"

"Yea." He said slowly remembering, "I don't know how to explain why that felt okay, and this…" He left the sentence alone, aggravated that he couldn't act normal even once.

"You don't have to. Caring about someone isn't defined as what you do while you're together, just that you're together."

"You deserve to have it all, not some guy going through the motions until he fulfills some decade old prophecy, who doesn't even remember what it feels like to have family." He closed his eyes at the admittance, and Ginny's eyes darkened slightly.

"Never mind about this prophecy you haven't told anyone about. Never mind your family. Never even mind about your stupid bloody tendency to brood, the taking on the world's guilt, the moods-- everything. I care about you. What I deserve? I deserve a chance with the guy who rocks my world. The one I think about everyday, the one who saved me from Tom. I deserve you. Everyone has scars. Do you think I don't have doubts? That I'm flawless? What do I have to offer? The last child of a lower level ministry employee and housewife?"

"You think that's what I see when I look at you?" Harry whispered intently, incredulous.

"And do you think that's how I see you? A helpless orphan? The boy-who-lived?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but found helplessly that he had none, so he closed it. Ginny took his arms away from himself and enclosed herself in them instead. She hugged his hips, closing her eyes against his shoulders and sighed as she felt him grasp her in return. Neither said a word, each sort of in some sort of shock, afraid that any movement or speech would break them apart. Indeed it was neither one of their faults for the eventual disentanglement. So involved in each other as they were, not even the door opening broke them apart, only the words some seconds latter.

"Unbelievable."