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In the Kitchen | ||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Angst, Fluff Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 15 Summary: Summer after 5th Year. Harry thinks about Ginny Weasley and what happened in the Chamber. Hitcount: Story Total: 4704 |
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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor anything else from JKR's magical world. Harry Potter sat alone in the dingy kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He knew it was well past midnight, but didn’t care to go back to bed. He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. His nightmares, which had mercifully ceased after a week at Privet Drive, had returned now that he was in Sirius’ old home. The dreams were sporadic and jumbled; at least they were products of his own mind rather than Voldemort’s. But tonight, he wasn’t awake because he had dreamt of Sirius. It had been a long time coming, really. After three years, after getting over the worst of his grief for Sirius, after his own possession by Voldemort at the Department of Mysteries, Harry was thinking about the Chamber and Ginny; she’d been possessed by Tom when she was only eleven. Harry remembered how Voldemort, or Tom rather, had gotten into Ginny’s head. She must have fought back, Harry reasoned — the Basilisk had never actually killed anyone…but how? How had a mere eleven-year-old fought the memory of Lord Voldemort? Harry remembered his own possession...the horrible pain, wanting to die and unwittingly saving himself by thinking of Sirius. Had it been like that for Ginny? Harry knew she hadn’t just gone around possessed all the time. One of her brothers would surely have noticed that. Harry had the unsettling feeling that he was missing something. Some piece of a puzzle that included the Chamber and Ginny and Tom and…he didn’t know what else. The flames in the fireplace flickered briefly as someone opened the kitchen door. It was warm, no need for a fire, really, except that someone might need to floo in. No one could Apparate in or out of Order headquarters. Harry looked up from his Firewhiskey to see Ginny, in a white night dress and dressing gown, slip through the door. “Ginny.” She jumped at the sound of her name and raised her wand. Harry could see her eyes flicker with something before she spotted him. Her eyes darted to his glass. “Harry, what are you doing here?” Ginny queried. He knew she probably disapproved of him drinking. Hermione had already expressed her displeasure, rather loudly, when Fred and George had presented him the bottle after his sixteenth birthday dinner the previous week. Harry quickly discovered that he didn’t like Firewhiskey very much; it burnt. But as Ginny settled herself across the table from him, she quirked an eyebrow and reached for his glass, raising it to her lips and unflinchingly swallowing a mouthful of the burning liquid. She smiled with satisfaction at Harry’s shocked expression. Harry looked away. Seeing her so fearless now, while thinking about her awful first year was too much. He looked at the wall instead. With the door closed, the fire didn’t flicker and the patterns on the walls were regular and languid. It was stifling. Harry wondered why it seemed so much warmer with only one other person in the room. ‘Probably the Firewhiskey,’ he mused, before his mind returned to the Chamber. He must have looked distracted, because Ginny was eyeing him critically. “Sirius?” she hazarded, attempting to meet his eyes but failing as Harry watched her fingers curl and uncurl around her wand. “It’s not that.” Tonight, for once, he hadn’t dreamt of the Department of Mysteries. His dream had started out at the Ministry of Magic, with him being possessed while Voldemort fought Dumbledore. But, then he was in back in the Chamber of Secrets. Only it was different; Ginny wasn’t there, because she hadn’t been the one to open the Chamber and set the Basilisk on the other students. Tom had chosen him, Harry, this time. “What was it like, you know with…Tom, in your first year and…” He trailed off when he saw the veiled expression that claimed her features. Harry knew that she probably still thought about the Chamber, dreamt about it maybe, despite her outward appearances of composure. Ginny got up from the table and walked to the cupboard, stretching upwards to get a glass from the top shelf. Her feet were bare and she stood on her toes. She still couldn’t reach. Harry stood up and stretched over her to retrieve the glass she had been struggling to grab. For a brief moment, he was pressed against her back, and his hand brushed hers. Her skin was warm; he could feel it even through their layers of clothes. Harry felt himself flush. The heat really was oppressive. He thought about extinguishing the fire, but knew he’d get in trouble for it in the morning. Ginny sat back down at the table, on the side away from the hearth, and Harry followed her. Harry knew Mrs. Weasley would heartily disapprove of him corrupting her youngest child, but from the look of things, the twins had already made great strides in that department — Harry was certain she’d had whiskey before. He poured her a glass and topped up his own. After taking a steadying sip, Ginny turned to face him. “At first, I didn’t notice much,” she began. “Every once in a while, I’d forget how I’d gotten back to bed at night or wonder where the time had gone.” She wasn’t looking directly at Harry, but her voice was steady. “Then, I forgot huge chunks of time, and I’d be exhausted. I knew something was wrong,” Ginny continued. “And Tom started, well, showing his true colors, I guess; he told me how you’d never like me. Tried to get me to hate you.” She looked at her hands as she said the last part. Harry detected a slight blush creep up her neck. “That’s when I tried to get rid of the diary,” she persisted. “I threw it in Myrtle’s toilet. By that time, it was like he was in me. Part of me wanted to keep the diary, but part of me really wanted it gone — for him to be gone too.” Her voice was very quiet and she colored slightly. “Don’t be embarrassed — he’s been in me for years,” Harry offered, meeting her eyes this time. “And I know it’s not you; he’s not you.” Harry emphasized his words, hoping she would believe him. Ginny’s eyes started to brim with tears, and Harry noticed that her face showed faint traces of the Muggle make-up that she and Hermione had been experimenting with earlier that day. “Don’t,” said Harry, giving her a small smile. “You’ll ruin your mascara.” He wanted to reach out and wipe a tear off her cheek, but stopped himself. His words seemed to have helped, however, because Ginny gave a sniffly laugh and held in the rest of her tears. She stared at the fire for a few minutes before continuing. “When it was worst, when Riddle tried to turn me against everyone, I thought about Percy,” Ginny confessed with a hint of a smirk. Harry smiled back at her admission. “He was so good to me that whole year — trying to shield me from everything that was going on. He must've made me see Madam Pomfrey a dozen times in the first term alone. It really helped to know that I wasn’t alone — that someone cared, even if it was only Percy-the-prat,” Ginny finished. Harry stared at the fire with her. How was it that she was able to focus on Percy’s kindness when her life had been in such shambles? Harry wondered what he would have done — offed himself maybe, or at the very least alienated every friend he ever had. He looked hard at Ginny Weasley, awed by the amount of strength packed in such a tiny girl. She was sniffling again. “I miss him so much,” she whispered. “He’ll come around.” Harry reached out tentatively and took Ginny’s hand where it lay on the bench beside him. She squeezed his fingers tightly and rested her head on his shoulder. “How did Percy react when you caught him snogging Penelope Clearwater?” Harry asked. “You never did tell us that story.” Harry felt Ginny smile into his shoulder before she began what must have been the long version of Percy and Penelope’s secret romance and the subsequent chaos once Fred and George finally found out. Harry lost track of how long they stayed in the warm kitchen while Ginny reminisced, their Firewhiskey forgotten on the table. Fin A/N: Please review; I don't have a Beta, so your reviews are the only feedback I ever get! |
| Reviews 15 |
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