At Night She Spreads Her Wings (or, Amazon Warrior Dreams) by AoiKazeToMidoriAme



Summary: Ginny has been watching and wanting Harry for as long as she can remember. So has Harry's mother. And she's now tired of watching them both doing nothing fast. Its time to watch them Spread Their Wings. Its time for Amazon Warrior Dreams.
Rating: PG-13 starstarstarstarhalf-star
Categories: Girl Talk Challenge (2010-3), Girl Talk Challenge (2010-3)
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2010.06.20
Updated: 2010.07.16


At Night She Spreads Her Wings (or, Amazon Warrior Dreams) by AoiKazeToMidoriAme
Chapter 1: Of What Dreams Are Made Of
Author's Notes:

Chapter one:

At Night She Spreads Her Wings:



“Why do you let her get away with it Harry, why do you let Umbridge just trample all over you. You could have had her thrown out you know. Or nearly so. Why keep going back?” Ginny was sick and tired of seeing the marks of his facing off with Umbridge. Sick and tired of seeing her mark on all of them. How was it that Harry, whom all this was directed towards, never had a complaint, rarely even had a word to say against her.

Not to doubt, of course, he certainly thought them, but Ginny had to daily fight the urge to suppress a feral growl every time her name was mentioned, while lessons were spent gripping the bottom of her seat to keep from hexing her, or scratching marks in her desk where she’d drawn an invisible likeness of Umbridge’s face. In fact the lesson after Ginny first realized she’s used a blood quill on Harry, Hermione had not even allowed her her wand all day. This was quite possibly because the second she’d heard of Harry’s detentions she’d foolishly listed all the hexes that Umbridge would soon face.

Of course, Harry always did have that nobility thing. She thought perhaps that was what he saw in Cho, a chance to rescue the pretty yet crushed girl from the ashes. Well, that and a flawless yet guileless complexion. Really, to be honest, knowing how he’d fancied her the year before, the face but likely had more to do with it.

As Harry’s expression turned from weary to “thinking teacher,“ Ginny tore her mind away from her tired thoughts. She’d learned that that particular expression meant there was something valuable that he had to say. Although, truly, with the way his voice made things so shyly melodious under normal circumstances, everything he had to say was worthwhile, even if it was, “Ron, you really are a prat sometimes,” or, “I knooow, Hermione.” She supposed maybe she needed therapy for that.

“I suppose, at first, it was like Hermione said, I was just being proud. It’s just, I can’t let her succeed, you know, can’t let her think she’s won anything on me. Even though, I guess now, as Headmistress, she’s won something over on all of us.” Harry got quiet for a moment, and the firelight cast strange glowing patterns across his silent, soft, yet somehow fierce expression.

His countenance in that moment, it stuttered Ginny’s heart, pulled out all those desires and hopes she always held close and dear deep in her heart. Her breath stopped for a moment, then shortened and steepened. Harry opened his mouth again, the words slow to emerge in his current mood; then looked straight at her, his eyes plowing into hers, seeming to pull at the secret a small quiet part of her wanted laid bare.

“But, now you know, now that she’s won a bit here, I just can’t stand the fact she could run roughshod over anyone I have here. Anyone of you that I care about.” He paused, gaze intent for a moment before dropping down, then abruptly rising back to her eyes, a new feral challenge lighting in them. Ginny almost thought they invoked the sound of a lone predator screaming its defiance into the air, as if some beast in his chest wanted something known. “I can’t Ginny, I can’t let her, or Voldemort, or anyone get at you. I won’t, and I’ll be standing at every turn trying to get in their way, to stop them. I guess a big part of that is why I think the D.A. is so important. I can’t abide the thought of you, any of you, being helpless in front of a dementor or Death Eater or Voldemort himself. Even if our efforts here are such a small start. You’re important to me,” he paused, “and well, I reckon that’s all a lot more important than either my silly pride or what Umbridge will do to me when she catches me out or bounds after hours.”

Ginny thought her heart might have stopped, stopped dead then and there when he’s said, “you’re important to me” like that. In fact, it seemed to her to take an inordinate amount of effort on her part to be able to feel it start again. The fire in his eyes, the light from the logs burning playing on that face, and the honest, soft, yet steely way he’d said all that, it played havoc on her heart. Suddenly she knew she’d never really be able to keep that off her mind as she stared up at other boys. Nor would she be getting any amount of homework done in front of the common room fire again. Not with the memory of his face looking like that at her as he said he cared for her emblazoned on her mind. Her heart stuttering, she hoped her lips wouldn’t do the same. She knew she had to say something to that, to reassure him that she felt the same, the same about him.

“I, er, we, we feel the same about you Harry, we, we care.” A sudden hesitancy and shyness had crept in, and she had momentarily lost her nerve. She knew that wouldn’t do, not for Harry. She had to let him know, somehow, in that moment that “we” meant she, and “care for you” meant love. “I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you either. I…, you’re important Harry. Not just because you’re the “Boy Who Lived” or because you know how to sell a mean Daily Prophet,” she smirked at him here, having gained a bit of momentum, she felt bold enough to tease him into a lighter form of this deadly serious mood.

“But because you’re important to me. Hell, Harry, I guess you’re important to all of us. Mum would go sparse if you got hurt. Ron would wander around looking lost for days. Hermione, she’d drive us all nutters with nattering on about how we should have done this or that, or how if she’d only read a bit more it could have all been prevented. The D.A. wouldn’t have a leader, and I reckon even the twins wouldn’t have a joke to tell about it till you were back and well.” She paused, looking intently, deeply into his eyes. They had seemed to darken as she spoke, she felt compelled to go on, seeing the depth of emotion her words had elicited in him. But she wasn’t sure how to say anything more, not about him, out loud, to him. Not when her feelings were hidden so deep inside. They were her deepest darkest secret, and she couldn’t let them out, not yet, even now. His next words though, they pried at them, working open the lid of her emotions.

“And what about you Ginny, what would you be doing? Going spare with all their antics and ridiculousness until you’d hexed Ron, Fred, and George while doing impossible loads of laundry for your mother?” He smiled wryly, but there was still something there in his gaze, a sort of hungry look. It tore the rest of her secret box open, and she let a bit more spill out.

“No, I don’t reckon I’d be doing that at all. I reckon I’d be going as spare as mum of course, but, but I don’t think I’d be able to do anything, even hex Ron.” She paused a bit, as if thinking on that, when really she had to fight down the desire to tell him that she’d be a puddle on the floor beside his bed if he were really hurt so seriously, that she’d have her face buried in his neck as she confessed all these things she was too frightened to say out loud to him now.

“Well,” she started, “maybe I’d still be up for hexing Ron. It is always a bit of a fun game, you know.” She almost choked on those words as she fought to make him smile. Suddenly she felt her efforts against asphyxiation were well worth the cost. Harry’s face brightened into a smile, and he gave a half chuckle. She suddenly wondered though, what he would have said if she hadn’t lightened the mood, had spilled her secrets out to him. His face, though grinning, was dark with emotions she couldn’t name. For a moment, she thought he might have the similar words on the tip of his tongue, but then her attempt at humour brought out his own.

“Yeah, I reckon it must be, as often as Fred and George do it. I have always wanted to give it a try,” His face took on a more mischievous caste, “You want to give it a go tonight?”

Suddenly Ginny wanted to scream and yell, to pull at her own hair, and she couldn’t quite name why. It wasn’t as if she had given him a declaration of love, but she could have. Could have let it all out there if only she hadn’t resorted to humour. Always to humour with Harry, a desperate bid to protect her feelings, her secrets. Instead she said “Hmm, now, well, it is a bit late, and, I reckon poor Ronniekins is already in bed asleep,” She paused dramatically here, turning once more to her trusty yet painfully constricting armour, “sounds perfect.”


….. …..

It was later, as they snuck back down the stairs under cover of the invisibility cloak after having successfully delivered a pair of hexes, (one to make Ron’s shoes untie themselves repeatedly in the morning and another to cause it to look as if there was a giant pimple that covered the entire end of his long Weasley nose which no one else would be able to see) when Harry suddenly paused.

“Ginny,” he started. Her first thought, well ok, her third if she was honest; her foremost thought throughout their trip under the invisibility cloak was how she could use their being invisible as an excuse to accidentally slide her hands up under his shirt and across his back and chest. Her secondary thought was how this could lead to her accidentally pinning them to the wall and frantically kissing his delectable lips till they were so swollen he could barely moan her name anymore. For some reason, both of these took precedence over where her feet were going, and she bumped into him rather roughly. The impact along with his breathy and whispered rendition of her name caused her day dreaming to suddenly cease.

“Yes, Harry?”

“I care about you too.” He paused again. “That’s why. Why I can’t let them win, why I can’t afford to be proud anymore. Cause I care about you, all of you. I can’t let Voldemort, Umbridge, or anyone take away any more people or lives. Watching Cedric die, that was horrible. I could never watch as he did that to you. So, we’ll have to stop them Ginny. We’ll stop them together. You, me, all of us. That’s what we’ve been training for, why the D.A. exists. Why the Order exists. Because I won’t lose any more. Because I couldn’t lose you like that, it would be too terrible.”

His serious tone had managed to drive the last of her randy thoughts away long enough to make her forget about them. His soulful eyes and deep voice would be sure to bring them back later, along with a warm glow. But for now she was momentarily star-struck by the light of his words. There was a devotion there she hadn‘t expected, hadn‘t thought he would ever let out to her, and she didn’t know what to make of it. Instead, she just nodded, possibly with a very quiet squeak somewhat rather too familiar to her ears. She thought somehow though, the heaviness of the silence and their conversation dampened the sound enough for it to be masked by their breathing, as Harry didn’t react.

She suddenly simultaneously felt tall, proud, and brave yet small, young, and shy in the wake of their midnight talk. She looked up boldly and made a pledge, then and there, to herself and to him, “I’ll always be there Harry, be there right beside you, fighting. I’ll be fighting for you, for us. I’ll be fighting to keep that from happening.” She looked down as her brain processed the other meanings to that, and she swallowed, wondering if he thought about those. “Well, anyway, I guess its late, and well, we ought to be up early, you know? Gotta watch Ron fall flat on his face four times before breakfast.” She gave a tremulous attempt at a laugh.

Harry responded in kind “Don’t forget watching him check himself self consciously in his spoon 18 times once Hermione shows up. How long do you reckon we ought to let that one last? “ He smiled at her, and her mind was not on her answer as she stepped from the invisibility cloak.

“Eh, what do you think? Lunch? Forever? Depends on how big a git he is tomorrow?” Harry’s tinkling laugh, as well as his words, followed her up the stairs and into her dreams.

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