|
The Birthday Present | ||||
|
Category: Pre-OotP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Fluff Warnings: None Rating: G Reviews: 6 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 2004 *** This takes place the summer before Harry's sixth year. It was written before OotP and takes place after the events of "Box of Rain" and "First Dance". It's pure, unmitigated fluff. Enjoy! Hitcount: Story Total: 4428 |
|
|||
|
shellebelle A/N: This takes place the summer before Harry’s sixth year. It was written before OotP and takes place after the events of “Box of Rain” and “First Dance”. It’s pure, unmitigated fluff. Enjoy! It was August first. Ginny’s birthday is only a few days away, Harry thought, but they don’t let me out of the house to do anything but work. He sighed. He very badly wanted to get her something for her birthday. But there was no way for him to shop for her gift, and since he couldn’t get to Gringott’s, there was no way for him to get money to do so either. Harry looked out over the back garden at the flowers, remembering last summer, how she had sat out there on that ridiculous stone bench with him. I didn’t see her before that moment, he thought in astonishment. Not really. Harry blushed when he remembered how he’d tied the green ribbon that had tied up his gift around her hair. It was all I could do to thank her. It was so hard to talk. He heaved a great sigh. I suppose a letter will have to be enough. Aunt Petunia pounded on his door then, startling him. “Downstairs, Harry! I need you to weed the garden!” Harry heard the click as the door unlocked, and his aunt’s footsteps heading down the stairs. Well, at least I can work out what to say while I’m weeding, Harry thought resignedly. Forty-five minutes later, Harry was no closer to a letter than when he’d gone out there. His neck was sunburned as well as his nose, and he was very downhearted. He brushed the dirt off himself and removed his shoes before going inside. “What were you muttering out there?” Aunt Petunia demanded harshly. “And don’t lie to me, boy, because I’ll know.” Lie? Why on earth would I bother lying to her? “I was trying to work out what to say to my girlfriend, if it’s all the same to you,” he said irritably. “Since I can’t have visitors, I have to write letters, and sometimes it’s hard.” His aunt turned away from him towards the sink. “That ginger-haired girl I saw you with at the station?” Her voice was a little tight, but her shoulders slumped and she began busying herself with the few dishes in the sink. “Her name is Ginny.” Harry sighed, and turned to go upstairs, but his aunt’s voice halted him. “She’s good to you, is she?” Harry frowned and looked at her. What on earth does it matter to her? “Yes.” Petunia’s back suddenly stiffened again, and she said sharply, “Go clean yourself up.” Harry paused for a few minutes, then shrugged and proceeded upstairs. I wonder what that was all about? He collapsed on the bed, exhausted, and shut his eyes. She looked up at him with those deep brown eyes of hers, and he could feel the pressure of her fingers behind his neck and over his shoulders. There was laughter in her voice as she said his name, laughter on her lips as she kissed him… THUD! Dazedly, Harry opened his eyes and looked up from the floor. I could have done with the rest of that dream, he thought as he hauled his aching body into a sitting position the floor. The light was getting soft and dim outside; and there was a tray on the floor by the cat flap containing a nearly stale sandwich, a can of soda, and…a book. Harry picked up the tray and put it on the small desk, sitting down and munching on the sandwich absently as he picked up the book. The Sonnets of William Shakespeare. Harry frowned as he took out a small bit of paper stuck in the front. This was your mother’s. Don’t ask where I got it. My mother’s. Harry laid his hand gently on the cover. He had never before touched anything that had been his mother’s. Her hand must have touched this. It was hers. Tears filled his eyes, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand before opening the front cover. Lil, I know you’re crazy about this Muggle writer, and I saw this in a shop and it made me think of you. Read Sonnet 116, and by the way, will you marry me? Your obedient servant, James This was too much for Harry. He put his head down on his desk and tears rolled silently down his cheeks. Ginny didn’t like to complain. It was her fifteenth birthday, she was at home and surrounded by people who loved her. But she hadn’t heard from Harry in several days, and that wasn’t like him at all. He had sent her a letter, every other day, for several weeks. She was a bit worried, and hoped that he was all right, hoped the Dursleys weren’t making life much worse for him… “Make a wish, Ginny, and blow out the candles,” her mother whispered. Ginny smiled and closed her eyes briefly before opening them back up and blowing lightly over the candles, extinguishing them with one breath. Ah, they’re staying out. No Fred and George tampering this time. Later that night, she brushed her hair before braiding it in a single braid for the night. Harry, she pleaded, please be all right… Suddenly, there was a tapping at her window. “Hedwig,” Ginny whispered happily. She opened her window and Hedwig flew in and landed on her headboard. Ginny gave the owl’s magnificent white feathered head a stroke and Hedwig nipped at her finger affectionately. “Thank you, Hedwig, I was so worried.” Hedwig hooted in understanding, and Ginny untied the letter from the owl’s leg. Dear Ginny, I really wish I could be there for your birthday. I think that I would be perfectly happy if I could be there, and I hope I am not wrong in thinking that it would make you happy too. I feel so awful that I can’t even give you a birthday present this year, because the Dursleys make it fairly impossible for me to do anything out of the house. It was hard to realize that all I could give you was a letter. And then it was hard for me to decide what to say to you. I got one of the best gifts of my life when you showed up at my door. I had never showed you the least encouragement, and there you were, braving my unbearably rude relations, to bring me a treasure. Or rather, two treasures, the Box of Rain, and yourself. Every time I saw you after that, it felt as if my mouth was full of things I wanted to say to you, but I could never say. I couldn’t help but notice you, your beauty, and your bravery. I felt sure that your brothers were all going to tackle me and take me apart when I danced with you at the Yule Ball. But I didn’t care; and I would have died most happily at that moment. You were holding me, and I’d never felt anything quite so wonderful…until you kissed me. I can’t describe how happy I was. I recently received something very precious: one of my mother’s books, a collection of Shakespeare’s sonnets. I’ve been reading it, and this one made me think of you. Sonnet 29 When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself, and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings. It has taken me five days to write this letter. I wanted to say so many things to you, but there aren’t words enough to tell you all the things in my heart. I wish I knew how long we are going to be like this…but for now, it is enough just to know you are there. Harry Ginny dried tears from her blushing cheeks. It might not have cost much, but this is the loveliest gift I have ever gotten. Hedwig hooted at her impatiently. “I’ll write something in a moment,” Ginny laughed. But she sat down at her desk and didn’t know what to say. Dear Harry, I only now received your letter, and I am glad it came when I was alone. You might not have said everything you wanted to, but you said enough for me to guess at the rest, and I am overwhelmed. I can’t wait to see you. I love my letter. Yours, Ginny The End. |
| Reviews 6 |
|
