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SIYE Time:13:12 on 29th March 2024
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Need
By iluvfanfics

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Fluff, General, Romance
Warnings: Extreme Language, Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 725
Summary: Their nightmares and demons bound them together. Their love helped them to survive. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley knew they needed each other; the trouble was in admitting it.
Hitcount: Story Total: 277000; Chapter Total: 14380
Awards: View Trophy Room






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Chapter 11

Harry followed the rest of the Tri-Wizard Champions down to the Quidditch Pitch. He couldn’t shake the feeling of apprehensive doom after Ron and Hermione had sent him off with a few final words of encouragement. Even though he was heartened by his friends’ faith in him, he wasn’t sure he quite deserved it. The only good part in all this was that it would soon be over. He’d wanted to say goodbye to Ginny, but Hermione said she was with Michael. Harry had managed to keep himself from scowling. He was grateful he and Ginny were friends again, but being friends meant he had to be civil to Michael bloody Corner.

“Harry!”

He turned at the sound of his name and heard the pounding footsteps before a small red blur launched itself. He caught Ginny to him as she jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He was so bloody happy to see her, so relieved she’d come to wish him luck that he did the first thing that popped into his head. He lifted his head, palmed the back of her head with his hand and pressed his lips to hers.

He pulled away almost instantly, as did she, and they stared at each other wide-eyed before a tentative smile cracked her lips, and she said, “Well, it’s nice to see you too, Potter.”

He smiled sheepishly and set her down. “Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I got carried away. It was sort of a…er…moment.”

“I…um,” she cleared her throat, “I just came to wish you luck. So… good luck then.” She pulled him into another hug, and Harry hugged her back, grateful she wasn’t making a bigger deal out of the brief kiss. He really hadn’t meant to do it. It had just been instinct – he’d been caught up in the dramatic moment.

He studiously ignored the taste of her that lingered on his lips.

“I’m worried,” she whispered. “Please be careful.”

“Hey,” Harry pulled back and looked down at her. “It can’t be any worse than Voldemort right? Nothing more to be scared of then that.”

“Right,” she smiled bracingly. “Just… don’t do anything stupid.”

“Is that even possible?” he asked cheekily.

She nudged him and stepped back to shove her hands in her jacket pockets. “I’ll be watching, okay?”

Harry nodded. “I’ll see you after it’s over then. Save me a Butterbeer.”

Ginny smiled and walked back down the corridor. He watched her go for a minute and then shook himself visibly. He had to get over whatever this thing was. Yes, he was attracted to her. Yes, they were close. Yes, they were best friends. It was that third thing that was more important than anything. Besides, he’d caught Cho looking at him the other day. She still made his stomach feel funny. Although he seriously doubted Cho would throw Cedric over for him, a guy could always dream.

******

Ginny wasn’t the sort of girl to fret, but she had to visibly restrain herself from doing so when Harry disappeared into the maze. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was looming.

The spectators waited in the stands for what seemed like hours. There were a few flashes of spell lights from within the maze and one set of red sparks that caused some excitement, but mostly they just waited. It was nerve wracking. Ron and Hermione were on edge as well, and Ginny caught Hermione giving Ron several worried looks as if she expected him to do something about the situation. To his credit, her brother only responded with encouraging smiles that seemed to calm Hermione down.

Ginny passed the time playing Exploding Snap and talking to Michael. After Michael had moved off to talk to some of his housemates, Ginny and Hermione sat together.

It was when Hermione was telling a funny story about her parents in Diagon Alley that Ginny felt it.

Pain.

Knee-bending, mind-wracking pain. It was as if something that had been dormant inside of her was suddenly awakened and was stretching – threatening to take over her mind, insisting that it share what little space she had inside her body. She felt like her brain was exploding as it struggled to contain the knowledge that was suddenly pouring into it. Her body shook with the effort to contain the energy inside of her. She felt a connection to something that felt foreign, and she knew -- she knew -- it was Tom. There was a snake inside of her hissing in triumph, and she had a sudden vision of Harry chained to a tombstone, twisting in anger and agony.

“Hermione,” she whispered, falling to her knees on the wooden steps. She felt her eyes roll back in her head. Her hand clutched at her friend’s arm. “Hermione. It’s him. He’s back. I can feel it.”

Hermione squatted next to her. “What is it, Ginny?” she asked worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Tom,” Ginny said hoarsely. “Go get Dumbledore.”

Hermione stood up and backed away, her face white with fright. She hurried down the steps yelling for the professor. Ron whirled around to see his sister collapsed on the steps, panting with the effort to stay conscious.

“Ginny!” he shouted. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He bent down and scooped her up, cradling her like a baby. “Where’s Hermione gone?”

“Ron,” Ginny gasped. Her body arched in his arms with the pain in her chest. She could barely speak through the hissing in her ears. Voldemort was really, really happy.

“It’s him, Ron. Tell Dumbledore. He’s got Harry-” the rest of her sentence was lost as the pain overtook her, and she fainted dead away.

*******

Ginny opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the bright lights of what she recognised as the hospital wing. She moved her head slowly, testing her mobility, and found that although she was a little sore, moving didn’t hurt that much. She took a deep breath and pushed herself into a sitting position. The events of the previous night came rushing back, and she inhaled sharply. Harry. Where was he? Was he okay? She felt for the connection to Tom Riddle that had appeared last night in her brain and was relieved when it seemed to be inactive.

She looked around the room, and her eyes rested on a lump with a familiar head of black hair lying in a bed a few places down from her own. She swallowed.

“He’s going to be fine, Ginny.”

Ginny turned her head to see Professor Dumbledore sitting beside her bed. Her mother was sleeping in a bed behind him. Molly Weasley still had her robes on and looked like she’d just lain down for a catnap.

“Professor,” Ginny breathed. “What happened?”

Dumbledore folded his hands inside his sleeves and regarded her over the top of his glasses. His normally twinkling eyes look sad and tired. “I’m afraid that Lord Voldemort has returned, Ginny.” He looked over at Harry’s bed. “He used a very dark magic ritual involving Harry’s blood that restored him to his body, and then duelled Harry until Harry escaped.”

“How did Harry do that? Escape, I mean.”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows lifted. “The Tri-Wizard Tournament cup was a Portkey. Placed in the maze by a servant of Tom Riddle. It was a trap. From start to finish.”

“I felt him,” she said quickly. “When he returned. I felt him inside me. I – I think he knows who I am.”

“Most assuredly,” Dumbledore said. He sighed heavily. “Cedric Diggory was with Harry. They took the cup together you see – a Hogwarts victory – and Peter Pettigrew killed Cedric. Harry had to bring his body back.”

Ginny’s heart stilled. And then she felt such an upswing of anger inside of her that her hands fisted in the bedclothes as she fought to maintain her temper. She couldn’t even imagine what Harry had gone through. She looked over at him again. She would kill Tom Riddle. She’d kill him with her bare hands.

Dumbledore must have sensed her anger because an amused look came over his face, and he reached out to lay a calming hand on her shoulder. “I think all will be well. I would like to talk to both you and Harry later, but I think it can wait until this summer. I’ll be sending Harry home to the Burrow.” He looked quickly over at Harry’s still sleeping body. “He will need his friends, Ginny.”

“Yes, Professor. Thank you for not sending him back to those awful people.”

Dumbledore nodded but there was a resigned look on his face. “There is a very good reason why he should be there but I’m afraid I don’t have the heart to keep him from his friends. Ginny -” Dumbledore stood up and stepped closer. He kept his hand on her shoulder. “I cannot stress enough the support and understanding Harry will need. Especially from someone who understands, even a little bit, of what it is like to face Voldemort.”

He stared pointedly at her, and Ginny nodded. Harry had helped her after her first year. And now, she would help him.

******

“Need some help?”

Harry turned around at the sound of Ginny’s voice. He looked back at the hopeless mess of parchment, clothes and other junk he’d collected throughout the year and now had to fit into his trunk.

“I hate packing,” he said morosely.

“I would too if I lived like a pig,” she said wrinkling her nose. “Why do I even come up here? It always stinks.”

“Oh and I suppose the girls’ dorm smells fresh every morning,” he retorted. He turned back to the pile on his bed and began sorting.

Ginny examined Harry critically. He’d been very silent on the subject of Voldemort’s return. They’d talked a little bit, but he’d been closed off and functioning as if he was in a trance most of the time. The memorial service for Cedric had been rough, and the ministry’s refusal to acknowledge Voldemort’s return had them all on edge.

“Are you all right?” She asked the hated question knowing what sort of response it would get.

Harry didn’t disappoint.

His face turned dark, and his hands fisted on what looked like a Rememberall before he swung it hard against a nearby wall. The glass cracked into pieces and fell to the carpet, a puff of red smoke evaporating into the air. Ginny didn’t even flinch. She took out her wand and conjured a small pile of white china plates that looked suspiciously like the ones they ate on at the Burrow.

“Go on then,” she said. “Have at it.”

Harry grabbed the first plate and threw it at the wall where it gave a satisfying smash against the stone and fell to the carpet in tiny, china splinters. He grabbed another plate and another, hurling all the plates at the wall until he screamed at Ginny to give him something bigger, something more satisfying to break. Ginny conjured the first thing that popped into her head: a Hogwarts toilet seat. Harry just nodded his thanks, took the seat and smashed it repeatedly against the wall until it too broke into pieces. He collapsed to the floor, panting against the wall in a pile of broken crockery.

“Thanks,” he gasped, looking up at her for the first time. “I needed that.”

Ginny walked over and squatted in front of him, twirling her wand in her fingers. “I won’t ask you for details,” she said simply. “I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready. But I’d like to remind you that you are alive, and that you have people who care about you and who want to be there for you.”

She reached out a hand and grasped his now sweaty neck. “You’re alive,” she repeated. “And I for one am grateful for that. You faced him, and you’re alive.”

“That’s the thing, Ginny,” he said bleakly. “I didn’t want to be. I didn’t want to come back. For a minute there, when he was holding the Cruciatus on me, I wanted to stop fighting. To just let him win, and then I would be in peace.”

Ginny wasn’t sure what to say. It was unlike Harry to give up on anything. “But you didn’t, you changed your mind,” she reminded him, shaking his head a little with the hand that was still on his neck. “You didn’t let him win. Even if you thought about it, you still came back. That’s important.”

“Is it?” he asked. The bleak look was still on his face, and Ginny wondered if it would ever go away.

She nodded. “I know it is.” She went down on her knees and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on his still-red scar, and then gently on his lips. It was meant to be a comforting kiss between friends, and she knew he’d understood her intention when she pulled back and saw a small smile on his lips.

“Thanks,” he said, after she stood up, brushing bits of china off her trouser knees.

“Always, Harry,” she smiled at him. “Always.”

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