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SIYE Time:6:01 on 29th March 2024
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Seek
By Wild Magelet

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Category: Post-OotP
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Angst
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: G
Reviews: 44
Summary: Ginny seeks comfort during the night. Written for r_becca's Ficlet Challenge on LiveJournal.
Hitcount: Story Total: 7263







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Disclaimer: Mostly belongs to J.K Rowling.

A/N: Just a fast fic written for r_becca's Ficlet Challenge on LiveJournal, using the word "Seek". A lot of the other fics are being posted on the harry_and_ginny LJ, and they're great, so I definitely recommend them for an H/G fix! =) Was supposed to be a maximum of 700 words, but went slightly over. I babble.


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Her feet were cold. Her feet were cold, and her eyes were dry, and her heart was hammering. With the lingering remnants of her dream burrowing tightly into her mind, Ginny pushed open the door and slipped silently into the room. It was chilly in there, too, she noted. A window had been left open a crack; she could see the drapes pressed against the glass. Her teeth chattered slightly in the darkness, and a sleepy mumble answered the sound. She flinched, waiting, but a sigh and rustle of bedclothes ended in a loud snore.


Ginny closed her eyes briefly, shame washing over her. It was at these moments that the years fell away, and she was right back there. Her body shrunk, her head drooped and her cheeks flushed; she could feel herself again as she’d once been. Oh, she could look in a mirror now, and she’d see an older girl…not much taller, perhaps, but older. The uncertainty — that naïve, lonely, loving desperation — was gone; she could meet her own gaze steadily now. The slightly wicked twinkle remained, and she was glad of it, but there was hardness to her face now that she didn’t quite like. She was growing up, and it was already too late to look back.



But at night, in the darkness, alone with her nightmares, she felt little again. Small, and helpless, and desperately, desperately afraid. And she would seek comfort. She craved it. She used to wish for the strength of her mum’s arms. Or the scrape of her dad’s rough jaw on her cheek. Now she sought refuge against the steady beat of her best friend’s heart, curled in the tightness of his hug.



He’d been wonderful to her these months. These years. He’d found her in the common room once, shivering before the roaring fire. Miserable, and lost in self-disgust. He’d sat silently beside her on the couch, and there they’d stayed till the first early-risers appeared for breakfast. It had been weeks later, after a particularly bad one, when she’d appeared at his bedside, pale and pleading.



He’d lifted the covers without a word.



Rubbing her hands over her arms, Ginny crept toward his closed bed-curtains. She flicked a glance in the direction of her brother’s bed. She didn’t think Ron knew — was almost certain that he didn’t, actually. Innocent or not, she knew he wouldn’t take kindly to the idea. Honestly, when it came to some things, he really did take after their mother.



Harry might know. She’d realized it before. She knew he slept badly himself; she’d seen the circles beneath his eyes and the increasing gauntness of his body. He had no one to comfort him. The thought stopped her feet. She stared at the silent stillness of his own curtains. She wondered if he ever craved it too — craved the warmth, and comfort, and illusion of security. It was always quiet where he lay, Ginny noticed now. She heard a ragged breath occasionally, a hitching sigh, so she knew he was there. She could feel him there anyway. But there was no snoring, no deep contented breathing — nothing like what she’d overheard years ago, back when he’d first stayed at their house. Back when he’d had enough good thoughts to balance the bad, and when she’d felt too awkward in her own skin to bear his politeness and indifference.



Yes, she thought Harry did know. He’d been watching her lately, but she hadn’t been able to read his gaze. He always turned away, and reddened a little, when she caught him looking. Ginny’s mouth twisted. It would probably confirm what he’d always thought of her — little, susceptible, baby Ginny.



Inhaling deeply through her open mouth, Ginny let the cold air chill her skin, before she reached for the drapes and tugged them open, preparing to slide quietly through.



She stopped, staring at Neville’s empty bed.



Of course, he’d told her he wouldn’t be there tonight. He had those extra Astronomy classes. She frowned, backing away, dreading the thought of climbing back into her own bed, listening to the sounds of her friends sleeping contentedly, slipping back into her dreams and into the icy embrace of a memory.



She would do it, and she would bear it, because she was strong.



But Merlin…sometimes she wondered what was worse: the memories of the night, or the new horrors of the day.



Pushing her hair behind her ears, Ginny took a few steps toward the door, watching her breath fog before her. It really was freezing in here.



“Hem, hem.”



She nearly jumped out of her skin. Shocked, she turned to meet Harry’s steady green gaze. He was kneeling on the end of his bed, shirt twisted about his thin torso, arm holding the drapes slightly ajar. Despite the crack-on impression of her own old impersonation, he looked somber. There wasn’t a hint of humour in his tired face.



They stared at each other.



Then very slowly, Harry sat back on his haunches and lifted the edge of his crumpled covers toward her.



Ginny’s mouth opened. She could feel it forming words, but she didn’t know what to say, and no sound emerged.



Was he really…?



He shivered, his hand wavered, and something small retreated in his eyes. He looked very young and frightened suddenly.



She made up her mind. Even if he intended something completely different… Crossing the floorboards, before she could either lose her nerve or question her sanity, she ducked between the curtains and let them fall closed behind her.



They were very close.



She could see his pupils dilate slightly as he watched her. There was an odd mix of terror and determination in his expression. His mouth was slightly open, and his throat worked in a swallow under her scrutiny.



Looking away from her, pink surging up his neck, Harry moved back in the bed. Slowly and awkwardly, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do next either, he lay down. Again, he lifted the blankets, this time a little higher.



Despite the embarrassment of it — of this whole thing — Ginny followed her instincts.



Placing one knee slowly on the bed, she paused for only a moment, before lowering herself onto the mattress. Biting her lip, she lowered her head to the pillow, barely able to comprehend what was happening, and where she was.



She was in Harry’s bed.



A hot tide of red flooded her cheeks, and she battled the instinct to flee.



He seemed equally as mortified, holding himself stiffly in the bed, blinking furiously.



What did they do now?



Ginny watched his averted face helplessly. He was keeping himself so far away from her; they’d neither of them be able to sleep like this. She shifted restlessly and her leg jerked. Her right foot brushed warmth, and he jumped.



“Merlin, your feet are freezing.”



The words burst out, and they both froze as Seamus mumbled a sleepy protest once more.



Ginny fought the urge to giggle.



“Sorry.” Their whispers were exchanged simultaneously, and Harry’s tense expression eased a little. A frown tugged at his brows as he contemplated her, eyes studying her own, dropping to scan her nose and cheeks and freckles, lingering on her mouth.



Ginny stirred nervously under the probing stare, and started to shift her icy legs away from him.



A warm foot hooked around her ankle, startling her into stillness.



Without taking his gaze from hers, and appearing to hold his breath, Harry edged closer to her and Ginny waited, fascinated and quiet. Tentatively, he touched her elbow…her upper arm…her waist. She tried to exhale, the sound at once a sob and a sigh, as he carefully levered himself down at her side, resting one arm gently across her stomach. His chin rubbed lightly against her shoulder as he settled his head beside hers on the pillow. She could smell the scent of his hair, and feel him breathe against her own.



“Ginny.”



He spoke her name in low tones after a moment.



“Mmm?” Her throat was too thick; she couldn’t speak.



“I’m here.” The words were abrupt and unpolished, his voice hoarse.



Ginny lay against him in the darkness. She nodded jerkily.



“No,” he said. His fingers flexed slightly, moving against her arm. “I mean…I’m here.”



She took a deep breath, and let the warmth battle with threatening tears. “I know, Harry,” she told him finally, steadily.



He nodded once, his head pushing forward a little, nose touching her neck.



“Harry?”



“Mmm?”



“I’m here, too.”



He didn’t hesitate. “I know.”



Ginny slid her arm up, hesitantly letting her hand rest on his narrow back.



She wasn’t quite sure what to make of this night, what to make of Harry, but she was warm. And she felt safe.



And he was warm and safe; and she could comfort him.



Seek, and you shall find.
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