Flinch: Ginny

The truth is, I’ve been in love with Harry from the first moment I saw him. Standing on the train platform and stuttering in embarrassment, too mortified to admit he didn’t know how to get to platform 9 ¾. I looked at the awkward boy, with his unruly hair shooting any which way, and his cracked glasses making one of his beautiful green eyes tessellate, and I couldn’t help wanting to kiss that gorgeous lower lip. So what if I was only ten. I blushed the way only a Weasley can, and I had my crush on Harry Potter.

And that was before Fred and George came off the train and told us who the sexy dark-haired boy was. And I admit, it made me just that bit more…interested. But it was there for the boy, not the Boy Who Lived.

A week into my sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry’s seventh, Harry pulled me aside after supper. He was Quidditch Captain that year, and I was a Chaser, and I thought he wanted to tell me about our team tryouts, to fill Katie’s Chaser position now that she’d graduated. But when he looked all awkward and didn’t say anything, I realized that wasn’t it. “Harry? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” he said, trying (and failing) to sound casual. “Er…Ginny, I really missed you this summer.”

It came out all in a rush, and I stared dumbfounded at him; that was not what I’d been expecting. “I missed you too, Harry,” I replied, trying not to let the treble in my voice give away just how much. “I’m sorry Dumbledore wouldn’t let you come to visit this year.”

“Me too,” he said. “There’s good reasons, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” I nodded, knowing that Harry would never “like” any time spent with the Dursleys. And being cut off from the Wizarding World, not knowing what Voldemort was up to, must have been even more agonizing.

Silence stretched out between us, and I had no idea what was going on. I’d long ago given up any thoughts that Harry saw me as anything but Ron’s little sister, but there was a tiny defiant spark that had refused to let my feelings for him lie. I still held out hope, even though I knew hope was a dangerous thing.

“Er…” Harry was a picture of indecision, and I was suddenly terrified that he would chicken out from saying what he was struggling with. I somehow knew that I had to hear whatever it was.

“Harry,” I said softly, “please say whatever you’re trying to say. It’s okay, whatever it is, it won’t upset me.”

“Ginny, will you…” Harry visibly steeled himself, and I held my breath. “Do you want to go with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

My heart leapt into my throat. After more than five years, the boy I’d all but given up on was asking me… “You’re- you’re asking me out? On a date?”

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, flushing. “I know you’re over that…it was stupid.” He turned to leave.

WAIT! My brain shouted, and I grabbed his cloak, pulling him back. He turned back, and before he managed to drop a lightly puzzled mask over his features, I saw something else; emptiness. Pain. Rejection. It was all there, because he thought I’d said no. As though I could ever say no to him.

“Harry…I gave up on you, when your attention was obviously elsewhere,” I blurted out quickly, before he could try to pull away again. “I never got over you.”

Harry’s jaw dropped, like he couldn’t believe it. “R-really?” he stammered.

I nodded, trying to quell the butterflies in my stomach. “Have you wanted to ask me…for a long time?”

Harry bit his lip, like he knew what he was about to say was a very bad idea. “Cho… was a big mistake. I know that now. I thought about it all last year, and it was a horrible mistake. When I looked back, I realized that I wanted to ask you if you still liked me, even back at the Yule Ball, but I let myself get wrapped up in Cho, because I thought that was what I wanted.” He smiled sheepishly, in the way that always made me want to taste that lower lip. “That day, when Ron and I were both turned down for the Yule Ball, and Ron said that you could go with me, it was like the greatest moment…and then you said you’d agreed to go with Neville, and I almost went and cursed Neville.”

I gave a startled kind of gasp, partially to indicate how ridiculous and wrong Harry’s cursing Neville would have been, and partially to give my mind time to stop running around in happy little circles. “I know, it would’ve been stupid,” Harry continued. “But I still thought about it.” His voice dropped so it was barely audible. “I really like you, Ginny. I should’ve said so sooner…”

“Yes,” I said, interrupting him, and he flushed, thinking I was agreeing that he’d waited too long. “I mean, yes, Harry, I’d love to go into Hogsmeade with you.”

Harry’s eyes lit up in a way that made me want to cry. He just stood there, like he would be happy to live in that moment forever. But there was something else I wanted, that I’d wanted for five years, and now that I knew I could have it the need flared up like a fire in my chest. I reached out and took Harry’s hand; looking apprehensive, he let me draw him closer, and when he realized what I was doing he hesitated. “Wait-” he muttered, and glanced up and down the corridor. Then he opened the door to a broom closet and led me inside.

I understood why. Everyone watched Harry now, and not just because he was a target. The war with Voldemort was raging constantly outside the relative safety of Hogwarts, and the Boy Who Lived was something more than a symbol. Harry having a girlfriend (and I relished the idea of being his girlfriend) would become international news, and the results wouldn’t be pleasant, for either of us. Harry was worried about my reaction, though. “Ginny…”

“I understand,” I interrupted gently. “We shouldn’t tell anyone until we see if there’s really something here, anyway.” That last was a lie, though, and I knew it. There’d always been something there for me.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m ashamed,” he murmured, reaching out to brush a strand of hair off of my temple. “I’d like nothing more than to tell everyone…”

“I said I understand,” I replied. “It’s okay. I just need something, and if this is really going to happen, then I need it now.”
Harry licked his lips and nodded. I was thrilled to see he was shaking even more than I was. He leaned down, slowly, and kissed me.

It was like something exploded inside of me. Harry’s lips were as soft as I’d imagined, and he was so hesitant he barely brushed them against mine at first. I stood on my tiptoes to press against him more, and he acknowledged my acceptance by moving closer to me.

What was shocking was that Harry was awkward at kissing. I had thought that the star Seeker, Captain of the Quidditch team, and one of the cutest boys in school, would have had lots of practice with snogging. Surely the Boy Who Lived could have locked lips with any girl in the school. I’d assumed that my two abortive attempts at boyfriends were just a small taste of Harry’s knowledge, but suddenly I knew that Harry’s few kisses with Cho were the extent of his experience.

I brought my hands to Harry’s face, and helped sort him out. He was painfully shy, and so careful with me I thought I might melt. It went on for a good five minutes. I finally got to taste that lower lip. It was the best kiss I’ve ever had.

When we finally broke apart, Harry’s eyes were shining. I’m sure mine were too. He breathed in deeply, catching my smell, as though wanting to capture every detail, every nuance of that moment. “I think there’s something here, Ginny,” he whispered.

*****

For the rest of the week I felt like singing. I annoyed Ron constantly with my cheery mood; Harry was a bit better at concealing it, but every time I looked at his face, I could see longing, and a smile playing across his lips, and I would shiver. Anticipation is a wonderful thing.

Privacy was hard to come by, though; we managed a few more kisses, snatched whenever we could slip away. In between, Harry and I could barely be in a room together; our eyes kept lingering, our mouths would go dry…anticipation can be a wonderful thing, but everyone has their limits.

Finally it was Saturday, and Harry and I headed into Hogsmeade together. My twit of a brother had finally told Hermione how he felt towards the end of the previous year, and the two of them had started dating in a nauseating, making-doe-eyes-at-each-other sort of way. I’d been somewhat disgusted by it, especially when Hermione had come to visit over the summer and they’d ended up snogging all over the house, but in truth I had been craving that sort of thing myself. Ron and Hermione had headed off together, the doe eyes already out, so it made sense, from an outside perspective, that Harry and I would hang out together, being at loose ends.

“Do you miss them?” I asked Harry as we walked slowly through the streets. “Ron and Hermione, I mean. They haven’t been spending much time with anyone but each other lately.”

“I…” Harry froze, just for a second, before answering. “Yeah, a bit,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to get in the way…I mean, it’s been a long time coming.” He grinned. “Is there anyone in the school who didn’t know they had a thing for each other?”

I noticed that Harry had changed the subject rather quickly, but I didn’t comment. “Just them, I think.”

“Oh, they knew,” Harry corrected. “They were just both too chicken to say anything. What pathetic excuses for Gryffindors.”

“You’re one to talk, Mister I’ll-let-her-dangle-for-five years!”

I’d meant it lightly, teasingly, but Harry stiffened abruptly. For a moment I thought I’d ruined everything, but after an eternity Harry relaxed. “Touche, Miss-Weasley-who-pretended-to-be-over-me.”

My laughter was mostly from relief.

We sat at a table outside a cafe and shared a huge ice cream sundae. The weather was warm and clear, and we ate the ice cream fast, before it had the chance to melt – Harry got brain freeze, and I laughed so hard I almost choked on the fudge. We talked mostly about inconsequential things, for the sake of appearances – fellow students passed us frequently, and we had to act as though nothing was happening besides a couple of friends spending a day together, chatting happily with their schoolmates as they passed.

What was really happening was Harry almost slapping himself in the face with a spoonful of ice cream the first time I ran my foot up the inside of his leg.

Finally Harry couldn’t take it any more. “Listen,” he murmured after Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott had wandered away, “Dean, Seamus and Neville never come back from a Hogsmeade visit before dark. And Ron’s off with Hermione, we might not see them until tomorrow.” He leaned in closer. “If we head up to Hogwarts now – separately – will you meet me in my room?”

My pulse accelerated. What exactly was Harry asking?

“I don’t mean…I’m not trying to pressure you,” he said, correctly interpreting my reaction. “I just – I hate this can’t-tell thing, it’s driving me mad. I really, really want to kiss you now, and since we can’t here…”

“Okay,” I agreed, feeling a bit giddy.

He smiled sheepishly (oh, that lip!). “Fifteen minutes, okay?”

I nodded. “I’ll go to the post office and watch the owls for a bit,” I said, standing and stifling an excited giggle. “See you soon.”
It took all my self-control not to run straight back to the school. Finally I thought I’d allowed enough time, and made my way back to Hogwarts. I went straight up to the Gryffindor common room, which fortunately was mostly empty. I glanced around, and when I was sure no one was watching darted quickly up the boys’ staircase.

I knocked on the door, not being sure if any of Harry’s roommates had returned early, but Harry opened the door with a smile that warmed me to my toes. I passed into Harry’s room for the first time, and was brought up short when Harry turned to close the door. Harry had stripped off his shirt and removed his shoes, leaving nothing but a too-tight t-shirt and some jeans that hugged his rear pulse-poundingly well. He turned back to me, noticed the attention, and reddened. “Harry,” I said when I was finally able to speak, “you said something about really wanting to kiss me?”

Harry crossed the distance between us and pressed his lips to mine. One thing that can be said for Harry; he’s always been a quick learner. The kiss was insistent and pleasant, and as always, Harry was infinitely gentle and patient with me.

When I pulled away, Harry’s face was panicky – he was afraid he’d done something wrong. In truth, he was doing everything right, and I only pulled away because I was feeling lightheaded. I led Harry to his bed and lay down with him, and resumed the kiss. We did nothing more than kiss for a while; that alone was intoxicating enough, kissing Harry in his bed. Harry eventually grew slightly bolder, and moved his hand down over my shoulder and down my arm, coming to rest on my hip. I responded, running my hand over his chest, feeling him shiver when I brushed his nipple.

“Harry,” I mumbled, not wanting to break the kiss.

“Yeah?”

“I-” I reluctantly broke the kiss and caught his eye. “I’d like to – to touch you, a little. Can I?”

Harry’s eyes widened in shock; after a moment, he said, “Ginny…if you stop too soon…It’ll be…frustrating.”

I smiled shyly at his delicacy. “I want to…I’ve never made a boy come before. Would that be too soon?”

“Wh-what? You mean-?” I saw the hopeful expression and managed to spare Harry’s fragile ego by not laughing. In answer, I moved my hand down and pressed on the bulge in Harry’s crotch. His whole body jerked, and he stared at me in disbelief.
“That’s what I mean, Harry,” I said, and I was proud my voice didn’t shake at all. I fumbled one-handed with the button of his jeans, until Harry helped with his free hand. As I recaptured his mouth, I pulled the zipper down, snaked my hand inside his boxers and took him in my hand for the first time.

I was scared for a minute by the size of it. It was so hard, and didn’t feel right in my hand, and I was afraid that if the day ever came when we…you know…I wouldn’t be able to. One thing at a time, I admonished myself, and began slowly stroking up and down. Harry groaned into my mouth, and pulled me closer, gently prying my mouth open so his tongue could duel with mine. I quickened the pace of my stroking, squeezing a little, and I was shocked when after just a minute Harry groaned even louder; I felt the flesh pulse under my hand, and felt something warm and sticky on my skin.

Harry’s face was red, and he was looking anywhere but at me. “Um…sorry,” he muttered. “I tried not to.”

I chuckled a little, startling him. “Harry, it’s okay,” I assured him. “I said I wanted to, didn’t I?” I pulled my hand out, and wrinkled my nose a little. Harry blushed deeper, and offered me tissues from his nightstand. “Does it always happen like that?”

“Uh…I dunno,” Harry murmured. “That’s the first time anyone else ever…” He smiled shyly, finally looking at me, and I couldn’t resist kissing him again. “Would you like…do you want me to…”

“Return the favor?” I asked, and blushed myself. I couldn’t help it; the thought of Harry’s large, strong hands, touching me down there, was overwhelming.

“I love it when you blush,” Harry whispered with a chuckle. “I always thought it looked funny on Ron, it brings out the Weasley freckles. But on you…it just makes me want to kiss them.” He leered slightly. “All of them.”

I blushed more, since Harry had to know I had freckles everywhere. “One thing at a time,” I told him, echoing my earlier thought, and tremblingly guided his hand under my skirt, and inside my knickers. It was so startling, when he touched me, my whole body froze; it was so unlike the times I’d touched myself…even though every one of those times, I’d imagined it was Harry, even when I’d been dating a different boy. Harry’s fingers felt huge, and he didn’t know where to touch like I did. I moved his fingers a bit and gasped when he brushed the right spot. He started moving his hand, long, slow strokes, and in no time I was panting, my eyes clenched tightly shut, and my knickers were drenched.

“Harry,” I gasped out, “p-put one- inside-” I felt Harry shudder beside me, and his index finger, already quite wet, slowly slid down and found my opening. His large finger felt incredible as it stroked in and out, and I forced my eyes open to catch him staring at my face, unable to speak. My hazel eyes met his green ones just at the moment his thumb rested on my clit, and I came.

Harry had never seen a girl come before. I went rigid and stopped breathing, and Harry was so startled his hand clenched convulsively, pressing his thumb harder on my clit and his finger hard against my inner wall. I unfroze and thrashed, my breath coming in shuddering gasps. I might have been murmuring, but I didn’t notice.

Finally I lay still, sated and spent. I dragged my eyes open and looked up at Harry, who looked terrified. “D-does it always happen like that?”

“I dunno,” I said, laughing weakly. “That’s the first time anyone ever…” Harry grinned, looking immensely relieved. “It’s never been like that,” I answered honestly.

“I thought I’d hurt you,” Harry admitted, quivering. “It took me a second to realize…” He froze again when his finger slipped out of me, and I shuddered with aftershock. “What?”

“It’s okay, Harry,” I gasped, carefully removing his hand. “When I do that, it’s a good thing.” Harry smiled, and I suddenly realized I was having trouble seeing him. I glanced around, confused. “Why’s it so dark?”

Harry looked up as if surprised. “I guess it’s getting late,” he answered.

“That means your roommates could be back soon.” I sighed. The last thing I wanted to do was leave, but we couldn’t let Dean, Seamus or Neville – or worse, Ron – find us together.

We carefully straightened ourselves out. I kept catching Harry giving me these looks – some were slow and suggestive, when he knew I was looking, but others…were full of longing. Almost desperate. “I wish…”

“What?” I asked, smoothing out my skirt.

“Nothing,” Harry said, shaking his head.

“Tell me, Harry,” I asked. I smiled, and he returned it shyly.

“I just wish…that we could sleep together.”

“H-Harry!” I stammered, stunned. “I- Harry, it’s too fast…I’m sorry, I just-”

“No!” Harry said, waving his hands. “No, I didn’t mean that! I mean, I’d like to…to do that too, some day,” he admitted bashfully, “but I meant sleep together. You know, in the same bed.”

“You- really?” I was amazed. I grew up with five older brothers, and the conversations I’d overheard had led me to believe that boys didn’t like that sort off thing. But I had to admit, the idea of spending a night in Harry’s arms warmed me all over. I grinned teasingly. “So…you want to cuddle?”

I understood what Harry meant about blushes being cute. “Uh…I guess that’s right…”

I kept grinning until Harry was glowing. Then I sighed; “It sounds nice, but I don’t think you’d be welcomed by my year-mates.”
“And I definitely don’t think Ron would be too happy if you stayed,” Harry added.

“You know, you could have been Head Boy, and then you’d have your own room,” I said, doing my best impression of my mum in lecture mode. “If you’d only applied yourself…”

“Dumbledore offered to make me Head Boy,” Harry said quietly. “I said no.”

“He- he did?”

Harry nodded. “He said I’d earned it a hundred times over. But I told him I thought I had enough to deal with.”

“You have earned it, Harry,” I whispered. Harry’s lips pursed, and he shook his head. “I didn’t even know he’d offered it to you.”

“No one does. I asked him not to say. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Not even Ron and Hermione?” Harry shook his head again. “Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, it’s past now. Justin’s Head Boy, and he’s welcome to it; he’s better at it than I’d have been, anyway. And for another, I really do have enough to deal with.” He shivered a little, even though his room was very warm. “Anyway, Ron would just get jealous and sulk, and Hermione would lecture me that I passed up a golden opportunity, and go on citing examples about how happy she is being Head Girl.”

I smiled sadly, because everything Harry had said was true. “All right, Harry, I won’t tell. I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway.”

Suddenly the candles around the room magically illuminated themselves, and Harry and I both jumped. “I guess we’d better get out of here,” Harry said with a shaky laugh.

As we headed down the stairs, a thought struck me. “Harry,” I said quickly, “what about the Room of Requirement? Could we go there to-” I blushed- “-to sleep together?”

Harry looked at me like I was mad. “But Ginny, there’s no bed in there!”

“There wasn’t last time we were there,” I pointed out logically, “but The D.A. didn’t need a bed. If we went there tonight, wouldn’t there be one?”

Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I-I guess there could be,” he said finally. “Tonight? You…you want to tonight?”

“Why not? Tomorrow’s Sunday. We could even sleep in,” I finished, smiling in what I hoped was a naughty way.

Evidently it was, because Harry blushed again. “Okay,” He mumbled, “I’m game if you are.”

*****

At ten o’clock, Harry put on his invisibility cloak, went down to the common room and waited at the foot of the girls’ staircase. When I came down, he threw the cloak over me before anyone noticed me, and we headed out together.

The Room of Requirement didn’t just have a bed – it had a huge bed, easily three times the size of the ones students used in the dorms. Harry and I gawped at it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bed that big in my life,” Harry said.

“Me either.” I shrugged. “But we got what we wanted, right?”

A strange look washed over Harry’s face for a second. It almost looked like… fear? But then he grinned at me. “So, which side do you want?”

“Whichever side you’re on,” I replied, pulling him to the bed.

There were two partitions, and Harry and I changed behind them – it felt strange to be modest with Harry, but I was still very skittish around him…not that I believed he’d ever hurt me, but everything was still so new. I’d waited so long for this chance with Harry, and I wouldn’t do anything that might scare him off, especially since he also seemed skittish with me. I changed into my shift and stepped out just as Harry did, wearing pajamas. “Oh, Harry,” I said with amusement, “teddy bears? So much for your manly image.”

I think Harry was in danger of setting a record for most blushes in a day. “Hey, you’re the one wearing a-” He swallowed- “-a flimsy dark green shift with lace that’s definitely too small for you. So much for your innocent reputation.”

“I’ve never had an innocent reputation to worry about,” I retorted, climbing onto the huge bed. “You, on the other hand, are Seeker and Captain of the Quidditch team, not to mention being so cute every girl in the school wants you, and, oh yeah, you’re the Boy Who Lived. Quite a manly image.”

Harry stood at the side of the bed and glared at me. “Is that why you’re here, then?” he said, and I was terrified at how cold he sounded. “Because I’m the Boy Who Lived? Is that why you were interested in the first place? Hoping a bit of the fame-” he spat the word like it was dirty- “will rub off?”

“NO!” My voice echoed across the room. “Harry, how could you think that?”

“Because that’s what all the girls are thinking,” Harry snapped. “Since the Yule Ball I’ve been asked out dozens of times, and every one of them just wanted a bit of the Harry Potter spotlight! None of them even knew me!”

“I know you, Harry,” I said softly. “I’ve known you for six years, and you’ve never been anything but thoughtful and kind to me. You almost lost your life saving mine. I’m here now, with you, not out of obligation, not for what you are, but because of who I know you are.”

Harry’s anger deflated instantly, replaced by a kind of resigned hopelessness. “I’m sorry, Ginny,” he whispered. “I know you didn’t – I know you better than that. I just…”

I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Harry hated that, when people pitied him, but I cared for him too much not to. “You’re right, Harry,” I said. “There are always going to be people who only see the Boy Who Lived. But I’m not like that, and neither are Ron and Hermione. Or Neville, Seamus and Dean; or my parents; or my brothers…”

“I know, I know,” Harry muttered, still looking very tense. We stayed like that a moment, and finally Harry sighed. “I’m really sorry, Ginny. I just get so frustrated… y’know, another girl asked me out yesterday.”

“What?” I spluttered indignantly. “Who?”

That’s just it, I don’t know,” Harry said, gritting his teeth. “I think she might’ve been a sixth-year from Hufflepuff. But that’s just the point – if I don’t even know her name, why would she want to go out with me except to tell people she’s dating the Famous Harry Potter?”

“I can’t even imagine how annoying that must be.”

“Sometimes it makes me feel like I’m not even a person,” Harry grumbled.

“Well…is there anything I can do to help you feel more like a person?” I asked, bringing out the freckles again. Harry grinned. His spirits were definitely lifting.

By then we’d both had a chance to…recuperate. I got Harry off again, and he did it for me, this time without my guiding him. It was easier, but no less awkward, and Harry was intense in trying to make up for getting upset with me. We were able to laugh embarrassedly about it, though, even as our skin cooled.

Finally I was curled up against Harry with my head resting on his shoulder, my fingers fiddling with the buttons of his pajamas. Harry eventually relaxed beside me, and kissed the top of my head, sending goose bumps shooting down my back and arms. “Harry,” I murmured tiredly, “I swear, from this day forth, I will never again think of teddy bears as anything but manly.”

Harry chuckled softly, and his chuckle turned into a yawn. “Sorry, Ginny,” he muttered, his words slurring a bit. “I’m so tired…” He yawned again. “I guess you wore me out.”

I snickered, lightly slapping his chest. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Probably, but right now I’m passing out.”

“That’s all right,” I replied, my voice warming. “I’m exhausted too.” I raised my head long enough to give him a soft kiss. “I had a wonderful day, Harry.”

“So did I.” He kissed me again, and I laid my head back on his shoulder with a sigh of contentment. “Goodnight, Ginny,” Harry whispered into my hair.

“Goodnight, Harry,” I answered, thinking It already has been.

*****

That night, I saw inside the world of Harry Potter for the first time.

I woke suddenly, like I always have – when you have prankster brothers you learn to wake all at once – and tried to find what had woken me up.

“Nn-” I started at another voice incoherently mumbling beside me, but the alarm deflated when I saw Harry and remembered where I was. I smiled slightly, but then Harry muttered in his sleep again and I saw, in the dim light from the moon through the window, that his face was rigid with fear, even in sleep. Harry was having another nightmare.

Nightmares were common for Harry – even if Ron hadn’t told me, I’d have figured that out. How could they not be, after all he’d been forced to see in his seventeen years? But I hadn’t seen that kind of fear since we’d been told Dad had been attacked, and almost died, two years ago. “Harry?” I murmured, a little desperately. His mumbling and thrashing were becoming more and more agitated. I reached out to him…

“N-N-NO!” Harry sat bolt upright, his eyes flying open, and I jerked my hand back instinctively. Harry glanced around with wide, terrified eyes, his hair tumbling over his face. His cheeks were wet, and he was so pale I would have thought he was a ghost. He noticed me and started; “G-Ginny? Wh-”

I wanted to do…something, to hold him, comfort him. But Harry’s skin was jumping all over his body, and he was staring at me like he could barely remember who I was. “Harry,” I said softly, trying to make my voice soothing, “It’s okay…”

“Oh, Gods.” Harry’s shoulders slumped and he dropped his head into his hands, taking long, shuddering breaths. “Ginny…I- That was- Oh, Gods…”

"Harry, it’s okay, it was just a nightmare.”

Harry looked up at me and shivered again. His eyes, at least, looked mostly normal, though he obviously was still in the grasp of the dream. “They’re never just nightmares with me.”

"What- what was it about?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Harry, mum always made us tell her our nightmares,” I told him. “It always felt better to let them out. They’re less scary by the light of day.”

Harry muttered something I couldn’t quite hear, but I thought he said “Not for me.” And of course he was right. Harry’s nightmares walked in the light of day.

“It was…it was Sirius,” Harry said eventually. “He was standing in front of me. And then something made him fall back, and h-he fell…he fell through the curtain.” I clenched the sheets convulsively. Harry had witnessed the death of his godfather, the best friend of his father, over a year ago, but I knew it would never stop haunting him. “And I reached out, but I knew he w-was gone…and then someone – or something – started forcing me towards the curtain.” He swallowed. “And I fought, with everything I had, but it kept getting closer…and I heard v-voices from the other side. One voice. Voldemort. He kept laughing. And he then said ‘This is your destiny, Harry…let’s get this over with.’ ”

“Harry,” I whispered. He had dropped his head again, and his shoulders shook with muted sobs. I reached out and gently placed my hand on his shoulder…

Harry leapt aside, pulling out of my reach. He ended up standing beside the bed; his whole body was shaking uncontrollably. “DON’T!” He shouted in a strangled voice.

“Harry!” I sat up, stunned beyond belief. Harry had flinched away from my touch like I might scar him beyond saving.

“Don’t touch me, Ginny!” Harry roared, not looking completely sane. “I- It’s too much, I can’t-” He broke off, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes wild and panicked.

I couldn’t help it; tears began to roll down my cheeks. The rejection was so painful I felt like Harry was killing me. “W-why?” I whispered. “I th-thought you…”

Harry stared into my eyes, and what I saw I never could have expected, could never have been prepared for. There was nothing in his eyes but fear. Harry was afraid of me.

Harry snatched his wand from the floor and Accioed all his things to him. Then he turned and flew out the door, leaving me alone.

*****

I don’t know how long I stayed there, sobbing into the sheets. After more than six years of waiting for Harry, six years of longing and pining, pretending I was over him, all the while making believe I was with him…to finally have had him, for a few short, miraculous days…It was as though my heart had been wrenched out, thrown on the floor, stamped on, and shoved back into my chest. How could I expect it to go on beating?

I must have fallen asleep, for the sun was high by the time I noticed it. I gathered my belongings methodically, changed into my school clothes, and stepped slowly out of the Room of Requirement. Students were heading for the Great Hall from all corners of the castle, and I realized dimly that it must be lunchtime. Not hungry, and definitely not feeling sociable, I turned away from the Hall and headed for Gryffindor. I went straight to my room, which was thankfully unoccupied, my year mates all being at lunch. I dropped my things on the floor and sat on my bed, and replayed everything that had happened the night before over in my mind, trying to make sense of it. There had been nothing in Harry’s eyes – no sense, no coherence. Just fear.

Then I was crying again, and I was sure I’d never stop. I’d never felt so hopeless, not even when Harry had gone out with Cho. How do you make someone believe they have no need to fear you, when you don’t even understand why?

A knock on the door startled me out of my mood. “H-hello?” I called, cursing my voice for sounding so thick.

“Ginny?” It was Hermione’s voice, and I leapt to my feet, dragging my sleeve across my eyes. I wrenched the door open, and Hermione started, her hand raised to knock again.

“Oh!” she gasped. “I thought…Ginny, are you all right? You weren’t at breakfast or lunch!”

“I-I’m okay,” I said, smiling weakly. “I’ve been here, mostly.”

Hermione gave me a penetrating look, one that made it very clear she could tell I wasn’t being completely truthful. “All right,” she replied, and her voice made it clear that it wasn’t. “Well then, do you have any idea where Harry is? Because he wasn’t at breakfast or lunch, either.”

I stared at Hermione as her words sunk in. Then, like a dam waiting to burst, I began sobbing again. I collapsed to the floor, my legs unwilling to hold me, and gave myself up to the tears.

I heard Hermione gasp from above me. Then I heard her move into the room, shutting the door behind her. She lifted me gently to my feet and led me to my bed. I heard a rustle, and Hermione cast a Locking Charm on the door. “But- b-but my year mates…”

“Forget them,” Hermione said briskly, lowering me to my bed and sitting beside me. I’d never thought Hermione was any good with emotional stuff – she’s so, well, practical – but she knew enough to stay silent and just let me cry into her shoulder, oblivious to how long we were there.

When I’d finally run out of tears, Hermione raised me off her shoulder and produced a handkerchief out of nowhere. I cleaned myself up a bit, trying not to think how I must look. “Thanks,” I muttered.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied sardonically. I looked up at her, a bit surprised, and found she was still wielding that penetrating look like a weapon; she looked angry, too. “Ginny,” she said quietly, “what did Harry do to you? Did he hurt you?”

“No!” I shouted, making Hermione wince. “Sorry. No, I mean, you know he wouldn’t- he didn’t hurt me…physically.”

Hermione’s mouth opened in an O of shock. “Y- have you and Harry been…”

“He asked me out a week ago,” I whispered.

“Oh…Ginny, that’s wonderful!” Hermione cried, smiling broadly at me. “Oh, I hoped that you would…and with Harry, too…!” She caught my expression, and her smile faded. “It is good…isn’t it?”

Suddenly I found myself spilling out everything to Hermione– all about the previous week and the happiness I’d felt, the stolen kisses, the trip to Hogsmeade…when I got to the previous night, I had to choke out what had happened around a new outpouring of tears. Hermione stayed silent the whole time, but I could tell from her stunned expression as I wound down that Harry and I had done a very thorough job of concealing our activities.

When I’d finished, Hermione’s expression was unreadable. I started to worry that she would start chastising me, if for nothing else than for not telling her about Harry and me. But finally she sighed. “Oh, Ginny…I’d so wished this wouldn’t happen, even though I knew it would.”

I nearly swallowed my tongue. “Wh-what do you mean? Y-you knew we would…?”

“No, no,” Hermione said, smiling shyly. “That was the biggest surprise I’ve had since…well, since Ron told me how he felt. But I always feared, if Harry ever…” She trailed off and regarded me sadly for a second. Then she leaned in, her whole body tense. “Ron and I have been worried about this for over a year now…since- since Sirius died. We’ve noticed that Harry…really can’t stand to be touched.”

“T-touched? But-” I blushed. “He didn’t seem to mind before…”

“Oh, not like that,” Hermione answered with a chuckle. “No, I’m fairly sure that every boy likes that. But, when it comes to- to displaying emotion through touch, Harry- well, it’s gotten worse and worse.”

“Well…well, that sort of makes sense,” I said, trying to think clearly. “I mean, he grew up with his Aunt and Uncle, and they weren’t exactly loving.”

“No, they weren’t, and that definitely didn’t help,” Hermione acknowledged. “But since the Department of Mysteries, Harry shies away from physical contact like he didn’t before. He always used to be embarrassed, like when I hugged him after he and Ron started talking again Fourth year…” she smiled a bit wistfully at the memory. “But now…well, now Ron can’t even punch his shoulder jokingly without him- flinching away.” I started at Hermione’s words, since it was exactly what Harry had done with me. “I’ve been worried that if Harry ever…if he ever tried to get together with anyone, that he might- have a bad reaction.”

I nodded slowly, and shivered. “He did.”

Hermione’s eyes met mine, and I was shocked to see how anguished she was. “We haven’t been able to- to figure out how to help,” she whispered.

“That’s because you can’t,” I said, almost to myself.

“What?”

“If- if you haven’t been able to yet, Hermione, then I don’t think you can.”

“I know,” said Hermione, her voice breaking, and shedding a few tears herself. “It’s just that we’re so worried…and it’s not just us, I know that Dumbledore’s worried too, and Hagrid and Professor McGonagall. I think Dumbledore knows something, but he won’t say. And…”

“Yeah,” I interrupted, thinking furiously, my mind finally working on something besides the heartache. “Do you- can you find out where Harry is? Maybe his map is still in his room…”

Hermione looked startled. “I…maybe. Do you think-” Her eyes lit up. “Ginny, do you think maybe you can help Harry?”

“How should I know?” I snapped, a little harsher than I’d intended. “But I have to try, I lo- I just have to. He did ask me out, and it was his idea to sleep together…To sleep together,” I insisted, blushing, for Hermione had suddenly gone very still, and the corner of her mouth was twitching. “In the same bed, that’s all. I think he wants to…” I took a deep breath. “Just help me find him,” I finished, trying to sound far more confident than I felt.

*****

I have a stubborn streak. I admit it. Not like Ron, who’s really just pigheaded; I’ve never hesitated to accept help, but I just can’t stand the idea that I can’t solve my own problems. And I’m not one to spend inordinate amounts of time mourning when I could be doing.

Hermione dragged me to the Great Hall, insisting that I had to eat something. I mostly drank water, to replenish what I’d shed from my eyes, but I managed a bit of food, while Hermione deflected questions about Harry with surprising adeptness. Ron’s expression made it clear he knew something was up, but he got the hint after Hermione glared at him pointedly.

After supper, Ron slipped into the Seventh-year boys’ room and rummaged in Harry’s trunk for Harry’s map of Hogwarts; he turned it over to me with a look that said I’d better explain everything to him soon. I turned down another offer of help from Hermione, and slipped out of the Gryffindor common room. I found a hidden nook where I wouldn’t be bothered, and pulled out my wand. “Lumos,” I whispered, and then “I solemnly swear that I am up to No Good.” The ink spread across the parchment, and I scanned the map for Harry’s name.

When I found him, I almost dropped my wand in shock. Harry was by himself in the Room of Requirement. Unable to believe my luck, I crammed the map into my pocket and sprinted to the appropriate stairwell. As I approached the Room of Requirement, I slowed, as I heard some extremely unfunny cackling. Peeves was floating back and forth outside the Room, which was shut, and talking merrily to himself: “If potty wee Potter will come out to play, Peeves will chase all his merry blues away!” He cackled again, and I saw he was holding water balloons filled with black liquid – he’d obviously seen Harry go in the Room, and just as obviously thought it would be a riot to drench Harry with ink.

I felt a rage like nothing I’d ever felt. How dare he treat Harry like that!

Now I felt grateful for the chances I’d had to watch Harry duel. Over the last year he’d practiced with unprecedented dedication, and had gotten so good and so fast at his spellcasting that he’d actually beaten Professor McGonagall in a practice duel, just halfway through his sixth year, without being struck once. It was widely believed that, with the exception of Dumbledore, Harry could beat anyone in the school, including all the teachers. Even that evil git Draco Malfoy wouldn’t dream of challenging Harry.

One thing I’d learned from Harry’s bout with McGonagall was about to prove very useful. Pulling out my wand, I stepped into view of Peeves, and focusing on my fury I pointed my wand at him and shouted “Elementus Profortia!”

A wind with the force of a tornado burst from my wand and flew up the stairs, shaking statues and kicking portraits askew. It picked up Peeves, who as a ghost was susceptible to wind, and carried him up the stairs, his cursing unheard above the sound of the wind. I felt the spell feeding off my anger, draining it quickly, but the tornado lasted long enough to throw Peeves through the wall, dropping his balloons everywhere.

Now a little nervous that the noise would draw attention, I quickly ran up and down the stairs, thinking desperately, Please, I need a place to talk to Harry alone. It has to be alone, a place we won’t be found… after three passes, the door appeared, and breathing a sigh of relief I twisted the doorknob and darted inside.

The enormous bed was still there, and as I moved silently forward I could make out two forms lying together.

I stopped in my tracks. Two forms? But the map had showed only Harry in the Room of Requirement. And it was never wrong. But there was no denying that the bed held two bodies. Moving closer, I saw Harry clearly, and when I saw the shock of red hair on the other body I couldn’t stop myself from shouting “What the bloody hell is that?”

Harry started up, his hair flying into his face. “Ginny!”

“Ginny?” gasped the other figure. “What do you mean? She’s-”

“No, wait!” Harry cried, although I wasn’t sure if he meant me or…he snatched his wand from his robes, pointed it and hurriedly blurted “Arrestus Simulus!”

“Harry,” I growled furiously when I found my tongue, “what do you think you’re doing? Is she- what did you do with…with that?”

“Nothing!” Harry insisted. “She wasn’t- I didn’t do anything…wrong with her…”

“She is wrong, Harry!” I shouted. “How often have you been doing this?”

“Never! This was the first time!” Harry looked terrified again, and I had to force myself to remember why I was there. At least Harry and - it – both had all their clothes on.

I walked slowly over and looked carefully at the disturbingly familiar features. “What- what is it?”

“A simulacrum,” Harry muttered. “I- I was just-”

“A simulacrum?” I interrupted, forgetting my anger entirely. “B-but Harry…a simulacrum’s so hard…I mean, I heard Dumbledore telling Flitwick last year that even he’d never pulled off a convincing one!” I looked back at the duplicate me. “This is…it’s perfect- it’s flawless!”

“I’ve been practicing,” Harry whispered. “All day.”

“All day? Just today?”

“Er…yeah,” he muttered, sounding disgusted with himself. He pointed his wand again and murmured “Finite Incantatem,” and the other me faded away.

“But Harry…why? I mean, if you weren’t…” I blushed. “Why?”

“Because I w-wanted…” Harry’s eyes were pleading, tears making them bright. “Last night- Ginny, last night was the happiest I’ve ever felt. When I finally relaxed, and h-held you…I want that so much,” he whispered. “But I d-don’t…I don’t know how, w-with you…”

I stared at Harry. “You were trying to- to teach yourself…to be held?”

“I d-don’t know how, Ginny,” he cried, as the last shreds of his poise vanished and he dissolved into nothing. “I d-don’t ev-even know h-how t-to be…”

*****

Harry was in far worse shape than I’d ever imagined. He wasn’t just damaged or hurt; Harry had been thrown up against the worst the world could show him, as a child, as a teenager, and as a young man, over and over, and it hadn’t just hurt him – it had broken him. After an hour of sobbing hopelessly into my robes, Harry began talking, and I finally saw the entirety of what he had faced, and what still lay ahead.

Like Hermione had feared, Harry had a phobia to touch. He had learned throughout his life that a touch was nothing more than a prelude to pain. But worse than that, Harry couldn’t bear to let anyone close – because he was sure, in his heart, that they would abandon him. His parents had died; Sirius had died. Lupin had been forced out of the school, and Moody had turned out to be a disguised Death Eater who’d sent him into Voldemort’s hands. Hagrid had vanished for a good part of Harry’s Fifth year, when Harry had truly needed someone; that same year, Dumbledore had deliberately avoided him. And now, even Ron and Hermione, Harry’s two best friends, who’d been with him from what he still saw as the beginning; who’d been his rock of familiarity in an alien world; even they had found something else, and no longer had a need for him.

And there was Sirius’s death. Harry had killed Sirius, he was sure of that. If he’d just tried a little harder in Occlumency, if he’d been smart enough to recognize the trap for what it was…and now, Harry had others, those he still cared for, whom he feared for until it crushed him, for he was certain they’d follow him into danger, and he was just as certain they would die…also because of him.

But above and beyond all of that was one giant fear that overwhelmed everything else – the prophecy. Harry told me what it said then, and it was obvious why Harry hadn’t told anyone, not even Ron and Hermione. Harry would either kill Voldemort – becoming a murderer – or he would be killed. And no matter how much Harry practiced, Voldemort would go to any lengths to acquire power. Harry was just seventeen, barely of age, and he had lived with a death sentence for over a year. More than anything else, Harry was afraid he was going to die.

All the while Harry talked, I clung to him, refusing to let him flinch away. And when he finally ran out of words, I waited a moment, and began my own litany.

I began with the truth – that I was afraid as well. Now that I knew the prophecy, I knew what it meant to be close to Harry, and it terrified me. But it was also true that I cared for Harry, and that I would never desert him, and I told him so in simple, unadorned words. I told him there were others that cared for him, and would stand by him, knowing the consequences, right to the end – to our deaths, if that was where it led.

And when he tried to say he didn’t want anyone else to die for him, I gently admonished him; “It’s not your decision, Harry. It’s ours. Caring for someone enough to die for them isn’t a curse, or a blessing, it’s a choice, and the people who love you can make that choice on their own. Sirius chose, and he never looked back. I already have, and I’ll never regret it.”

“And Harry,” I continued, “there’s something else I’m afraid of as well. I’m afraid of how much I care for you.” I swallowed, tears stinging my eyes. “It’s so strong and so fierce, I can hardly bear it sometimes, and it feels like every pain you have, I feel. I’m scared that I might die in the coming war…but I’m more scared that you will, and that I won’t be able to live without you.”

Then I pulled Harry to me, and I kissed him like I hadn’t dared before; desperate, craving, needing – needing him to understand. My fears met his, and his kiss was the same, burning and wanting.

And then I took Harry to bed. I delicately stripped us both of our clothes, and then under the sheets we made love. It was the first time for both of us, and when he entered me it was painful, but I stopped his self-flagellation with a shaky smile and the observation that pain from a touch can sometimes be a good thing.

Harry was as gentle as ever with me. The pain lessened and my pleasure built, and my joy was multiplied a hundredfold as Harry accepted everything I offered. Every time he’d start, or shy from my touch, I’d stomp fiercely on my tears; what Harry needed was reassurance, not pity. I proved to him, over and over, that a touch from someone you care for can be comfort and love, trust and acceptance. I bit Harry’s shoulder and sobbed when I came; Harry’s heart had opened to me, and when Harry followed a moment later his own tears showed what he finally saw – that my heart was open to him.

As we drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, I realized I had no delusions about Harry – he was far from better. It was possible he never would be. But at least he had a chance to find some peace, for however long he still had.

FIN