The world and characters of Harry Potter belong to Ms. Rowling.
Thank you to my betas, ReadingRobyn and No_Hugs_Peach. (there could be changes to these chapters that have already been posted.
Also, if you can, please review. I would love to hear what people are thinking. :)
.:x:.
Ginny let out a shaky sigh and leaned her head against the wall of the girl's lavatory. She concentrated on taking in slow, deep breaths and not hyperventilating. Even though she was dying inside from embarrassment she couldn't have helped it. He wasn't supposed to be in her Charms, class that was her safe spot. If she'd been prepared to see him maybe she would not have responded so strongly. As soon as he'd strutted in she had panicked and fled, nearly crushing into poor Professor Flitwick on the way out.
She hadn't known that that would've been her reaction. She thought she was stronger, more composed, yet she was the one who'd been shattered. Ginny felt a hot tear slip down her cheek. She instantly struck her head against the wall with all her might, biting her lip and hissing as pain exploded through her. She closed her eyes, trying to relax. It wasn't that she was overcome with sadness, she was angry. He shouldn't have so much control, she shouldn't let him.
She was tired, so tired, which made it all the more difficult to believe what she saw in front of her. A girl, dressed in muggle clothing with long, curly, dark hair was sitting across the lavatory on the edge of a sink. She blinked and kept staring at Ginny behind long lashes. She said nothing but twirled a lock of hair around one finger. Ginny blinked again and the girl was gone.
"Great, now I'm seeing people," she muttered bitterly to herself.
She stood, her knees were still wobbly and her head aching. She walked over to a sink, avoiding staring at her reflection as she splashed water on her face.
"Ginny," Hermione pushed through the door, her brown eyes full of worry and concern. "Are you okay?"
Ginny let out a shaky sigh and walked slowly over to Hermione's open arms. "I almost passed out when I saw him, do you think I'm okay?"
Ginny leaned her head on Hermione's shoulder, cringing when Hermione's maternal fingers rubbed over the lump that was forming on the top of her head. She pulled back, raking her fingers through her hair and sighed.
"I supposed I have to go back, don't I," she whispered, refusing to meet Hermione's gaze.
She looked to the wall as Hermione placed a nurturing hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to do anything. I'll help you stay caught up; I won't let you fall behind. It's probably better that you go back to the dormitory and lay down for bit."
Ginny nodded and brushed past Hermione. She quickly wiped the hot tear that was falling down the side of her face off her cheek. She was so angry at herself for falling apart. He was supposed to be suffering; she wanted him to hurt the way she did. She wished she could put a spell on everything and make him know how she felt, make him feel like he was about to break every time he saw her for a change.
And then he appeared in front of her.
His hair was still messy and uncontrollable, hanging in front of his eyes and hiding the tops of his round glasses. Some had found his glasses nerdy or odd, but it had always been something she loved. He was taller; she hadn't been able to tell in the carriage and had burst from the room to quickly to notice earlier. He looked like Harry, but he was clearly not a little boy anymore. She tried to breathe and focus on not remembering how it had felt to rest in his arms, but the memories flooded in too rapidly and boldly for her to handle. So Ginny did the only thing that was clear to her.
She ran.
She fled past him and the other students, not caring at the stares she was attracting. She felt her heart pound and could only hear his voice in her head as she flew from him.
"You're really something Gin, you know that? I cannot believe after all the years of acting like you didn't mean anything, you still love me. You're still here, and I just can't believe that it's with me."
She started hyperventilating, holding her stomach and trying to block out anything remotely sweet that he'd ever said to her. It didn't matter if it was a vast, romantic speech or just him saying he liked her socks, she did not want to hear it.
"Kelpie Hoof," she gasped to the Fat Lady, who gave her a concerned look before swinging open.
Ginny kept running, past a group of second years and even past her brother before bursting through the door of the dormitory and collapsing on her bed. She panted for a few minutes before catching some of her breath and closing her eyes, and resting against the pillows, wishing she could sink into them and vanish.
She was too tired, far too tired.
I'll just close my eyes for a minute.
Ginny fell into a meadow with a light thump. She stood, brushing grass of her favorite pair of brown corduroy pants. She hadn't remembered ever putting them on, but she didn't care. Somehow, she knew this was a dream and that the peace she felt wouldn't last. She stretched her arms, squinting at the bright sunlight and marveling at the serene world around her. She figured she might as well enjoy it while she could.
She looked to the left and saw a small forest that was glimmering with lights that she thought looked like fairies. Whatever the lights were, they darted around the twisting branches making the forest seem inviting, not threatening like the Forbidden Forest on the grounds. She looked to the right and saw a small stream, babbling itself around rocks covered with soft, light green moss. There were little white flowers covering the ground all the way to the horizon. It was perfection, that was the only way to describe it. She was peaceful, far from tears and felt, for once in this day, like everything could work out to be all right.
"What is this place?" she wondered out loud, staring into the distance.
"It's your own utopia," a voice said from behind her.
Ginny turned and gasped suddenly. It was the girl from the bathroom. She was prettier than Ginny remembered, with chocolate colored locks that reached the middle of her back. She was petite and fair and her grey eyes were full of compassion, at least Ginny thought so. Her dress was white and her cheekbones stood out like every girl would want theirs to.
"Excuse me?"
The girl gave a small smile. "You created this place. It's a place you can come to when you're feeling lonely or disconnected or even panicked. It's your own paradise, so to speak. It's the one place where everything will go according to your wishes, to your plans. It can happen when we feel stressed, we being magic folk."
Ginny felt her jaw drop as the girl spoke. "My own paradise? But I was just hysterically crying…"
The girl nodded. "Sometimes, when bad things happen, you need a place to let go in the little bliss you have left. In your case, the only happiness you have is your ability to create. So you created this world, this place where you can be you, this place where everything is perfect and you can trust everything to go your way. You know that old saying 'there's a silver lining to every dark cloud'? Well this is your silver lining."
"If I created this, then who are you?"
"Oh!" the girl threw back her head and laughed, the sunlight danced along her shiny hair. "Pardon me. I'm Lela, Lela Britx and you sort of created me too."
Ginny frowned, confused. "How?"
"You wanted someone who could understand and listen without judging you, right? Someone who would never be bias or have unneeded or unwanted opinions on a situation? That's where I come in. I'm just here to listen and just to be your friend. I'll listen to your stories, and be there when you need me, and I'll give you advice if you want it but never get mad at you for anything," Lela said, a soft breeze ruffling her hair.
Ginny smiled, falling back on the grass that felt more like a pillow than the ground. She flipped over onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. "So anything I want, it can happen?"
Lela sat beside her. "Yes, that's how it works. It's one of the luckiest things about being a witch," she laughed. "You provide your own therapy. If you could have anything in the world, what would you want?"
"I'd want Harry here, with me. Just the two of us," she answered instantly. She expected tears to fall but all she felt was tranquility.
Lela smiled and walked away into the taller grass in the meadow. Ginny closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, inhaling the scents of lavender and of surprisingly, clean, freshly washed laundry.
"Is there room for me here?"
Ginny opened her eyes and felt her breath catch in her throat. Standing above her, with a boyish grin on his face, was none other than Harry Potter. She felt herself smile and patting the spot next to her.
"It's you," she murmured, looking at him as he lay down on his back.
"Yeah, at least as far as the last time I checked." He grinned at her, black hair falling in front of his eyes.
Ginny tucked herself into his arms, realizing that this is how they had been five months before. She felt his lips brush her forehead and she smiled, looking up at him.
"I never thought I'd be here with you."
"I never want to leave."
She grinned, kissing his lips lightly and sweetly. "Then we won't. We'll stay here…"
Ginny awoke with a start, feeling the back of her neck and forehead. She was extremely warm, close to breaking into a sweat. She stood up, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
"Forever," she murmured before she let another tear slide down her cheek.
.:x:.
Harry snapped the lock on his trunk closed, he had miraculously finished unpacking. Usually it took him months and even when he thought he was done there would be a pair of shorts or a shirt lingering behind in his suitcase. He hadn't wanted to go out to the common room though, so he shut himself up in the room as much and often as he could for whatever reason he was able to come up with. The common room was questions, questions he couldn't respond to because he wasn't even sure of the answers to them. Yes, retreating was much easier.
"Why are you here, Potter?"
"Weren't you on some sort of mission?"
"Well look who's back, chicken out did you?"
"Did something bad happen, Harry?"
"Are you all right?"
Whether they were coming from a kind spot or a hostile one, he could not take them. As much as they wanted to no one could understand what he had been through, what he had seen. This included Ron and Hermione and they were the people he considered to be the closest to. Harry leaned against the side of the bed and scuffed the floor with the sole of his shoe. He didn't know when he had become so angst ridden; he didn't know when he went from trying to avenge the people he loved to feeling sorry for himself.
She didn't help the situation at all.
He thought she would understand, he thought she would accept and even appreciate how he was looking out for her family. Instead she ran at the sight of him, ignored his attempts to speak and generally acted like she was a porcelain doll preparing to be pushed from the shelf.
She was acting like a child.
He stood and stretched, pushing thoughts of her from his mind. He kicked his shoes off and pulled his white t-shirt over his head, tossing it over his shoulder on top of the dirty converse. He made his way to the mirror, wanting to see how the damage that had been done was healing. There were bruises covering his arms from the Inferi grabbing at him. Their nails had left nasty scratches on his neck and the backs of his shoulders, though the now black scabs were starting to finally peel off. Harry hadn't wanted to worry Madam Pomfrey with something else to do with dark magic, she had her hands full enough treating children away from the public eye and away from any gaze that could be from a Death Eater.
Hogwarts wasn't crawling with them as he had been expecting, but they were there. Their black hoods stood out amongst the sea of students. McGonagall and Snape had come to some sort of agreement, though Harry never understood how. Snape, the new interim Headmaster, said they were for his protection and, if for nothing else, then to remind the students that there were two sides to this war. McGonagall quickly agreed to let four of them stay, as long no dark marks were conjured and no deaths occurred. She wasn't stupid, she knew if she were to refuse him they would all suffer, and it would be terrible.
Even though the thought of four of his loyal subjects wandering the halls of his beloved school made him want to scream, Harry commended McGonagall for not acting rashly. He would've told Snape to shove it up his arse and probably would have thrown a curse or two his way. The fact was though that the Death Eaters were more just a nuisance; Harry had bigger things to be concerned with. They wouldn't be a problem for much longer anyway.
Harry reached into his book bag and pulled out the last small bottle of his Dittany. Hermione had snuck him some every time she was able to get into Snape's cabinet undetected. He drank the liquid, shuddering at its bitter taste and tossed it on to the bed.
"Evanesco," he muttered, flicking his wand at the bottle. It disappeared instantly.
Harry sank onto the bed he called his own and laid back against the pillows. The scratches began to itch, angry at being rubbed against fabric, but Harry ignored the discomfort. His mind was stuck somewhere else, it was stuck on the one question he couldn't disregard and actually wanted to answer.
"What do you think will happen to Ginny if you die?"
Leave it to Luna Lovegood to get inside someone's head. Harry cursed himself for allowing Neville to go on and on about Starthistle, had he not been in that train car he wouldn't have run into Luna and her annoying innocent demeanor. He wouldn't have come across the one person who could easily ask the most heart wrenching question in the most genuine kind of way.
The fact of the matter was that Harry himself was trying to come to terms with just that. Had he been eleven years old and known it would come to this there would have been no question. But now he had something to fight for, and therefore something just as great to lose. No one had ever mentioned that before. People were always saying how feeling love is the biggest advantage against Voldemort, that having compassion and friends was something he and his followers could not comprehend and therefore could not defend themselves against. But what no one ever thought to say was how it made it harder to want to wake up every day and get into the fight in the first place.
Harry grabbed one of Ron's plaid shirts from off the floor, quickly smelling it before buttoning it on. He couldn't help but chuckle at the orange Chudley Cannon's button pinned to the blue shirt, the Keeper on the button waved unenthusiastically at the invisible audience in front of him. Ron was something to lose, Hermione too, Harry thought to himself.
And Ginny Weasley was definitely at the top of that list.
