Well, I come to you bearing yet another one-shot. So, I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: Not mine!!!
Dedication: The weather, as it was my inspiration.
|
Rain-Splattered Hopes | ||||
|
Category: Post-HBP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Angst, Fluff Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 7 Summary: One stormy night can mean the world to a war torn girl who is only hoping for a safe return of her love. Hitcount: Story Total: 4606 Author's Notes: |
|
|||
|
Red The Author The rain began to pour down outside as she pulled the sheet closer to her. It was too warm for a blanket, so she simply draped a sheet about her, hoping the tears would pass. Lightning lit up the sky, and as she counted to three, thunder rolled over the house, shaking the windowpanes. Once again, it was a warm, summer night, stormy as always, but tonight was different. Tonight, she hurt. She leaned over and opened the window a little bit more, allowing more of the breeze to come into her room, and allowing the rain drops to play upon her nose as she rested her head upon the window frame. The sky lit up once more, and the thunder masked her pitiful wails. She really couldn’t say why she was crying; perhaps the sheer force of emotion was finally getting to her. Perhaps it was the blaringly obvious absence of her brother, or maybe it was the fact that she was useless. Useless to help out in the big picture, useless to hold the one man she loved the most close and protect him from his nightmares. She sighed, and shifted on the fragile wood of the window seat. There hadn’t been a cushion on that window seat for years, not since she started Hogwarts, and her mother needed the foam to fix a couch in the sitting room and the fabric to make some curtains. Not like she liked the fabric much anyways, it was a girly theme, which her mother, in her excitement of having a girl, hastily picked out, babbling over how adorable the fabric was. The curtains now hung in the attic, awaiting a brighter day when war is the last thing on anyone’s mind. A particularly strong gust of wind suddenly came, knocking a few scrolls off her desk, and whipping her hair around her face. She touched a strand of hair by her mouth, and let a new round of tears go, remembering how he touched her hair with such gentleness, careful not to displace it, but stroking it, biding sleep to visit her. Oh how she wished he werehere right now, wiping the tears out of her eyes, holding her close in her one moment of weakness. There was a slight knock at her door, it sounded hurried, like something was wrong. She deftly lifted herself from her perch and quickly made her way to her door, clutching her wand in front of her. She opened her door, only to find a sopping wet figure standing there, with impossibly messy hair, clutching a bit of battered parchment. “Oh,” she gasped, looking at him, and realizing he was shivering. “Oh, Harry…” She said, grasping his shoulder. “What are you doing here? Where is my brother? What–shouldn’t you be somewhere else?” She said, looking outside her door, as if someone might jump out of a dark corner and kill them. “That’s just it.” He mumbled. “I shouldn’t be here. But I have to give you this. I have to. It was too stormy for Hedwig…” “So you walked here? Harry–“ “Here,” he said, handing over the parchment. “Read it later or whatever. I need to get back before Ron wakes up.” He turned around and walked down the stairs quietly, careful not to wake her parents, and slipped out of the house. She ran back to her window, and watched him walk down to their front gate, slip out, walk a little further along, and then apparated away, leaving her looking at the puddle where he had just stood. She sighed, and walked over to her bed, dropping her sheet, and sat in the middle of her bed. Grabbing her wand, she said a quick lumos and her wand gave way to light, and she loosed her grip on the parchment in her hand. Scribbled hastily on the front was her name, and she traced her thumb over her name, and then opened the parchment, focusing on the letter. It too, looked hastily written, and it was quite messy, but something she recognized as something uniquely Harry. ‘I realize this may not be the best time to write you, considering my location and everything, but I had to.’ He started out, sounding more apologetic than anything. ‘I…I really have no idea what to say. I don’t. I’m not good with professing love or explaining myself to anyone, so you’ll just have to take my word on this. I have no idea what I am doing. Just wishing, that somehow, everything could be over, and…normal…you know? Not that I know what normal is, or anything.’ She scoffed a bit, and continued reading. ‘Well, I’m finishing this up and I am going to come see you. I know I shouldn’t but I have to. I need to see you. Yours forever, H.’ She let the parchment go limp, and grabbed her wand, carefully exited her room, praying that the stairs would not creak, and skipping the seventh and third steps, she made her way outside, careful to leave a jar full of buttons to prop the door open as she went outside. Her nightdress soon stuck to her skin, due to the rain, and the humidity, and she walked over to a small bench, now surrounded by weeds. She pulled her legs to her chest, remembering a time when that very bench had been surrounded by flowers that were weeded by the boy in question, remembered watching him from this very bench as he chased her brothers about, doing stupid things boys do during the summer. Lightning crackled overhead, and she buried her head in her knees, hoping the rain would mask her tears once more. She wished with everything that she had that he would just come home, not to the Dursley’s, but to her, her family. The rain began to pour harder until it felt like little sharp needles in her skin, which caused her to cry even more. Suddenly, she sensed someone behind her. She grasped her wand tighter, slowly removing her face from her knees to look at the intruder. Seeing the face of her mother, she relaxed her grip on her wand. “Oh, dear, what are you doing out here? It’s impossibly wet, and someone could come and take you and I would never know!” Her mother fretted. “Ginny Weasley, don’t you do that to me!” Her mother cried, hugging her, and holding her tight. “Dear, what has you out here anyways?” She asked, taking her housecoat off and putting it on her daughter’s shoulders. “Harry…” she mumbled. “Oh dear…shh, it’s alright Ginny. I only hope that he finds his way safely.” Ginny nodded, hoping the same thing, as Molly Weasley lead her inside, where Arthur was already brewing some tea, ready to comfort with warm towels. |
| Reviews 7 |
|
