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Talk to the Sky
By highhopes

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Category: Post-OotP
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: General
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Reviews: 1
Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated since 2005 ***

Ginny is bound and determined to help Harry, but when she does, will he know? Sometimes you have to get what you want yourself instead of waiting for it. Cute one-shot.
Hitcount: Story Total: 2911







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A/N: This is just a cute little one-shot fanfic, please be nice and review!!


I really don’t know why I like the sky. Maybe it’s because it’s my middle name. Ginevra Skye Weasley. Maybe it’s because I was always left to myself when my brothers went to play Quidditch, so I would lie on my back an look up at the sky while they played.


For whatever reason, I would pair people with the types of sky they were. Like the girl my mother used to make me play with whenever I acted to tomboy-ish for her liking. I think her name was Priscilla. Yes, that was it, because I called her Prissy Priscilla, in my mind. Ron was the sky the eye of a tornado, calm in the midst of the storm, but he could still be unpredictable. Hermione was the cloudy sky, always hovering around (not that I don’t love them both, I really do…). My brothers varied. Harry Potter (that I do not like one bit) has recently been acting like a full blown out thunderstorm with hail and lightening and thunder. And that Mr. Potter is why I’m like this.

He never opened up to anyone, ever. And it killed me to see my savior (well, he did save me in the Chamber…) killing himself. Anytime anyone mentioned, well, anything, he’d blow up. And that left Ron and Hermione (Hermione actually) in tears one day. I couldn’t stand it. They were the only people around who would talk to me, and they were arguing about Harry. Not that I minded them arguing about Harry, it’s just that they were arguing and they are the loudest yellers I have ever seen-heard technically, I suppose. So I left on a walk, and that is when the whole thing started.

At first it was just a little cloudy, with a slight breeze blowing through the area. I wrapped my cloak a little tighter around me and then I felt a couple of drops of rainwater splash upon my uplifted cheeks. I figured that I could perform a drying charm, and kept walking. Then the skies opened up, dumping buckets of cold water upon me in my thin, worn-out cloak. As I turned to go inside (no sense in getting a cold, right?) a thought struck me. It was absolutely brilliant, or so I thought.

What if I painted the sky? And made it like a photograph, with moving clouds and stuff? How cool would that be? So I hurried into the Common room to snatch up my camera, so I didn’t have to get all my painting stuff wet (which I figured I could just conjure up when I was ready to paint) and so I could have a picture to look at if it took a while.

Once I grabbed my camera (a gift from Bill), a heavy waterproof coat (from Charlie), and ignored Ron and Hermione’s still ongoing argument, I headed out by the lake, where I figured I’d take my picture. Much to my surprise, the spot by the lake was already occupied. By Harry. And he wasn’t taking pictures.

Standing to his full height facing the rain, he was shaking a fist at the storm, as if it was to blame for everything. He was shouting too, and his dreamy black hair was plastered to his head. He looked so angry and alone, that I wanted to go hug him, but suddenly he sank onto his knees and started sobbing and throwing rocks into the ocean. I didn’t want to go closer for fear he would toss me in too. Once he stopped throwing things, I went over and sat by him, both of us drenched in water. I put my arm around his neck, just to let him know that I was there, when I saw his eyes were tightly shut. He couldn’t-or wouldn’t- see me, being there for him. I realized I was probably late for class or dinner or something, but the boy-man- I loved was hurting and I couldn’t leave. Until he left, which he did. He stood up and left, gathering his broomstick (which I hadn’t even noticed) from the ground. He only turned once, to look at me and say, “Thanks, I needed you and you came. I owe you one.”

Two days later, I had sat next to him four times and not once had he been friendly, and he said hi only twice. He did seem better, though, like his yelling and screaming had made his anger at the world dissipate a little. But he never acknowledged me, so I had to confront him. Right? Right.

The Common Room was empty except for me and Harry, so I approached him.
“Hello Harry,”

He glanced up, and then back at his book he was reading. “’Lo, Ginny.”

“Harry, I have a confession to make. I saw you at the lake. I sat down next to you, and after that, you’ve barely acknowledged me. It doesn’t feel that great, you know?”

Harry stood up and then took an angry half step towards me. “That was you? I thought that was my mother!” Apparently then he realized how stupid he sounded, and flushed. “I meant, I didn’t think you were really there. I thought it was my mind playing tricks…” He trailed off. “I’m sorry?” He offered as a way of reconciling what he thought would be hurt feelings.

I did my showy smile, “No problem.” I started backing away, realizing why our relationship hadn’t sprouted after the lake incident. But Harry had other ideas, and he grabbed my arm, forcing me into the nearest chair.

“Why were you outside in that weather?” he let go of my arm.

“I wanted a picture of the sky. But then you were out there so I went to talk to you.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t talk much to you. I mainly spoke more to the sky. I always had to, you know? No one else would listen at the Dursley’s, so I spoke to the sky. But lately I’ve felt more comfortable talking to the storm.” His eyes were deliciously green, almost black in the fading light.

“You can talk to me too, Harry.” I spoke slowly. “My middle name is Skye, if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

He flashed a grin, one that was filled with embarrassment and pain, but still a grin. “Quick thinking, Ginny. Maybe I will talk to you more often, Ginny Skye.”

“Ron, what is Ginny’s middle name? She told me but I forgot.” Harry asked Ron at breakfast; I was far enough away that he thought I couldn’t hear.

“Skye, why did she tell you her middle name anyway?” Ron had his fork halfway up to his mouth and it looked awful. Why didn’t
mum teach him table manners?

Harry shot a look down the table to where he figured I was listening and smiled. It was a real smile too, not the cheesy ones I’d seen recently. I figured that if I could make that progress, I could get him to kiss me too, then realized I was planning to far in advance.

So we talked, a lot. And now I know about a lot of things that he has to deal with. Like the prophecy. And how he feels about his parents In fact, we covered everything but the us part, the me-and-Harry-kissing-and-going-together part. But then, it hit me that I got him to talk to me by confronting him, so I’d just confront him now, before I lost my nerve.

And that‘s why I’m currently weak at the knees, completely blissful, with my arms wrapped around the neck of a certain green-eyes boy. Who is kissing me like I’ve never been kissed before; he’s even running his tongue along my lip. And I’m in heaven. And determined. No one (not even Voldemort) is going to take my Harry away from me. I just have to make sure that he always ha
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