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Author: Tosca Story: The Year of Secrets Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 6 Words: 71,798
Harry stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, pacing the Room of Requirement in frustration. It was unbearably warm in the room; he had already stripped off his robes as the sweat started to bead his forehead. His eyes glanced towards the wooden clock near the door as he made another pass around the couch. 7:05. What was she playing at? Was this her form of rejection to his note? He was not in a flexible mood. Maybe some other time he would have let her have her way and actually enjoyed not worrying about their relationship. It had been his attitude for the most part for the better part of four months: let Ginny control the relationship; she had his best interests at heart. After the chilly attitude he'd been receiving from her, he was sick of their state of their relationship. The pacing increased as his frustration grew. She wasn't a demanding girl; he knew it and appreciated it. But she wanted a lot from him, or at least a lot from his point of view. In the summer she had caught him at a vulnerable time, and he had been able to voice some of his fears to her. Now that he was back at Hogwarts, surrounded by strangers, he couldn't just dig up his feelings and spill them to her. She had to understand that he couldn't just say things like she wanted him to. That wasn't to say he couldn't tell her anything; it just took him a while to feel comfortable enough with himself to say the really tough things. To make matters worse, it was Christmas. Harry had really begun to hate Christmas these past few years. Ever since he had woken up this morning to the sounds of his roommates' furious packing as they prepared to head off for the holiday, all he had been able to think about was how Sirius wasn't here to spend Christmas with everyone, and how it was his fault. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Sirius' face, framed by the shaggy black hair and full of cheer. Last Christmas had been Sirius' happiest holiday in a long time, and he had enjoyed it to the fullest. How was he to know that in less than a year he would be chasing after Harry to his death? Harry shuddered, quickening his pace. 7:10. 'Come on, Ginny. Hurry up before I remember too much...' Memories of Christmases with the Dursleys set upon him, and he cringed, clenching his fists so hard that his nails cut into his palms. He brought his palms to his face and winced as blood began to well at the crescent-shaped cuts. Dudley smirking as he unwrapped the first in a never-ending line of bicycles... The piece of moldy bread he had received when he was seven... The longing for his parents he felt every time Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia simpered over their son after they came home from Mass. Curling up in his cupboard after the endless day, silent tears of grief streaming down his young face... He let the blood collect in his palms, shuddering violently with the pain of his unwanted memories. His pacing halted, and he stood in the middle of the room, staring at his hands and feeling oddly cold in the warmth of the nearby hearth. Lost inside himself, he didn't even hear the creak of the door opening. He didn't see Ginny slip inside, an impassive look upon her face. He did hear her gasp quietly when her eyes found him. It startled him, and he looked up from the cuts on his hands to the pale girl standing only a few feet away from him. Silently thanking Merlin that he wasn't bawling like a baby, he put his arms at his sides and met her wide gaze. "You're late," he said tonelessly. She gulped, the indifference gone from her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered, not moving from her spot. A frown crossed his face, and he struggled to keep the poisonous hate he felt for himself from surging over into his face. "So am I, Ginny. I've been sorry for a long time." She remained mute, staring at him. He took a step towards her. "You won't let me talk to you. I can't be near you anymore. You keep me at a distance. I'm sorry for all of this. But it isn't entirely my fault," he ground out, forcing the words from his mouth. "You can't expect me to be able to give you everything you want. It's not in me, Ginny." He looked at her, expecting her to speak up. She was silent under his gaze, and it infuriated him. Crossing the distance to her in less than two strides, he grasped her wrists as gently as he could, trying not to shake her out of silence. "I can't be what you want! I'm a murderer; I'm cursed! I can't tell you what I'm feeling. It's not who I am!" he exclaimed wildly, not understanding why he was saying these things to her. He tightened his grip on her. He wasn't expecting her to reply; he was ready to let go of her and stalk away. Then, he felt a light touch on his arm. Her fingertips made small circles on his skin, as she looked up to his gaze, eyes sad and repentant. "Harry, it is in you. I've seen it," she said softly. Already he was overwhelmed by the feelings he was expressing; it was overload for his brain. He released her, turning his back to her, and stared into the leaping flames of the fireplace. "I just want another chance, Gin. I know that I'm not what you thought I was, but you're exactly what I want. Please give me another chance." Reaching out to him, she stepped towards him. Her hand closed on his elbow, and he turned back to her. She was smiling slightly up at him. "I think I've been the prat, haven't I?" she asked in a whisper, reaching up with her free hand to brush his fringe from his hooded eyes. Her fingers brushed his scar and warmth shot through his veins. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I've been confused, and I thought you just didn't care enough about me to tell me anything, you know?" She took a deep breath, steadying herself on his elbow as he listened intently, confusion filling him. What was she saying? "I haven't told you anything, Ginny," he protested weakly. Shaking her head, she ran her fingers down the line of his jaw. "You've said enough for you, Harry. I can't ask for more if you can't give it right now, right?" They stood in silence for a while, letting the sound of crackling wood soothe them. The fingers on his elbow traced the thin scar left by Wormtail during the Third Task, and he shivered. "You're unhappy." He jumped slightly at the words. How could she read him so easily? Sirius' face coupled with a shiny red bicycle appeared in his mind, and he shut his eyes tightly against the images. "Nothing more than usual." She kept one hand on his elbow as the other fell away to her side. "It's almost Christmas, you know," she commented gently. His body tensed. "Ginny, please stop." Her hand left his elbow and he cursed himself brutally, scrambling to recover, his eyes still closed against Sirius' empty gaze. "Don't leave. I'm sorry." "Stop saying you're sorry, Harry. I'm not leaving you," was the soft reply. "I'll stay until you want to go." His stomach clenched mercilessly. She wasn't going to leave him. But she would in the end. They were all leaving because of him. Because of him, his parents were dead. Because of him, Cedric was dead. Because of him, Sirius was dead. He began to shudder uncontrollably, water stinging behind his eyelids. "Ginny," he rasped. "I'm right here, Harry. I won't leave you." His gaze was blurry as he opened his eyes to look at her. She was standing right in front of him, giving him a tiny smile. Something inside him broke. He didn't know how it happened; whether he had moved into her arms or she had reached out to him was a mystery of no importance. All he knew was one minute he was gazing at her and the next his face was buried in the slope of her neck, and her arms were around his back. She rocked him as he shuddered and cursed in a hoarse voice, feeling a wetness passing from his eyes to her skin. He didn't understand what she was whispering to him; it was like a foreign language, words he had never heard spoken to him in his life. Her voice lulled him, and as his sobs passed, he blacked out into a blissful void of solitude and Ginny's soft voice. * When he awoke to the chimes of eleven later that night, the room was swathed in shadow. His head was pillowed on Ginny's lap, and he could feel her fingers sifting through his hair gently. He blinked, eyes itching like he had shed tears before sleeping, and looked up to her profile, illuminated by the dying embers of the fire. She looked happier than she had in weeks, and his heart felt lighter as he watched her quietly. He'd blocked out the last hours; he had been delusional. What had he said? He shifted his head on her lap slightly, causing her to look down at his face. When she saw his eyes were open, she smiled softly at him. "Hello," she murmured. He had to smile back. "You let the fire die." She shrugged and traced the lines of his face with one hand as the other continued running through his hair. "I was much too comfortable to move." He couldn't remember if he had actually cried; he had barely ever cried in his life. Shame flushed his face, and he started to sit up. "Ginny, I'm---" Her hand pushed gently on his shoulder, making him lie back down. She shook her head, a smile playing at her lips. "It's all right, Harry. You don't need to say anything. I understand," she said gently, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. His skin burned at her light touch, and he gave her a half-smile. She did understand. He could say anything to her and she would know what he meant. She would never bring up his spells of grief, but she knew why he'd said some of the things he had. With all the things she did for him, what was her reward? What did he do for her? Her hair was pulled back into its usual ponytail, red and copper hues shooting through it as the embers in the hearth burned away. He reached up to the nape of her neck and pulled the ribbon from her hair in a quick motion, sending the curls tumbling around her face. His lips creased into a small smile as he felt the silk-like strands slip through his fingers. A light laugh, lower then her usual timbre, escaped her mouth. Quickly, he pulled her face down to his, lifting his other hand to cup her cheek, and kissed her mouth, opening up to her almost immediately as she yielded to him, tangling both her hands in his mussed hair. Heat shot through him as she opened her mouth to him, and he felt a blinding need to devour her. He had missed her a great deal. His hand left her cheek and skimmed down her spine, feeling the curve as she bent over his face. She was tense; he realized somewhere in his dazed mind that she must be having a hard time keeping her back bent like this. Breaking reluctantly from her mouth, he shifted off her lap, sitting up to meet her questioning gaze as she straightened her back. He smiled ruefully. "I thought your back might hurt," he muttered with a blush, thankful for the dark. She smiled at him, and moved down to sit right next to him. He reached over and pulled her legs across his knees, settling her on his thighs. Her cheek rested on his chest as she wrapped her arms around his back, and he buried his face in her hair, letting the warmth of her body seep into his cold bones. "Are we all right, Ginny?" he asked, voice muffled by her hair. He felt her nod under him. "We're all right, Harry." The memory of his breakdown was beginning to haunt him. All he remembered was the overwhelming pain he had felt, and that she had been there to see it. "What did I do?" he whispered, not sure if she would understand his meaning. She shifted her head and looked up at him, a small, reassuring smile on her lips. "Nothing you didn't need to do. It's all right, Harry. I won't leave," she whispered before kissing him softly, bringing him back to her from his tortured mind. ~*~ It was odd, being alone in the castle with Harry; she was free to touch him or look at him as much as she pleased, providing the professors weren't close by. The only time she saw them was at meals, so they weren't a difficulty. Now, the grins Ginny had caught from Professor Lupin annoyed her, especially when she saw Harry smile back; she had to wonder if they were smiling about her. Only ten students had stayed at the school for the holidays; she and Harry were the only Gryffindors. They had the run of the tower and they took advantage of it. Somehow she had persuaded Harry that there was no sense in sleeping in separate dormitories when they were the only ones in the tower, so they had transfigured the chairs by the hearth into makeshift beds. They didn't want to attempt sleeping in the dormitories together; who knew how those alarms worked. She was still baffled about how Harry got into her room that night in September. And even though she and Harry went to sleep in different beds, somehow one always ended up in the other's bed. Not in a bad way, of course. It was just comfort; he was feeling especially low because of the holiday, and her memories of the Chamber were creeping upon her like they always did at this time of year. Having his arm around her waist grounded her, even in the depths of her dreams. And she didn't mind waking up with him next to her in the morning either. She shifted in his arms as the sunlight streamed through one of the windows in the common room. A hand touched her hair, sending a ribbon of warmth through her body. She was filled with a lethargic sense of happiness as his hand tightened on her waist; this feeling they had couldn't be wrong when she felt so light, so free. She didn't ever want to let him leave her arms again. A yawn stretched her mouth as she blinked her eyes open, leaning back against his chest as a low chuckle escaped his mouth. "Happy Christmas, Ginny," he said cheerfully; almost too cheerfully. She rested the back of her head on his shoulder, smiling sleepily as his hand sneaked across to the flat of her stomach. His other hand tangled in her hair. She slipped her hand over the one at her waist. "Happy Christmas, Harry." They were still as minutes passed, each trying to escape the chill of their own minds. Ginny shivered involuntarily and he pulled her closer to his warmth. A comfortable silence reigned. She could feel the tension rise within him as life rushed back from sleep; what did he remember on these empty mornings? He made a sudden shift behind her, slipping his hands from her body and sitting up. She rolled over to her other side, looking up at him as he sat on the edge of the bed, looking pale in the brilliant sunshine. "We should open our gifts, right?" he asked nonchalantly. She sighed inaudibly, wrapping a blanket over her nightdress as she sat up across from him. "All right, Harry," she replied softly, smiling weakly. He shot her a quick grin and walked over to the hearth, where two small piles of wrapped boxes sat glittering in the sun. She watched him from her bed quietly, seeing the restraint in his movements. It was much like the restraint he had in his emotions. It hurt her to see it; that night in the Room of Requirement, she had finally understood what kinds of torture he had been put through his whole life and how they haunted him now. His guilt over Sirius' death was only the most recent hurt. It made her feel very young to sit next to him during this time. He had gone through so much in his early years; she had to wonder how old he felt when he was alone in the dark, vulnerable to nightmares and memories. Maybe that was part of why he sought her in the night. He needed to forget. "Gin?" She looked up at his gaze with a start, brought from her own internal ruminations with his curious voice. He was holding a box out to her, smiling softly. "Are you feeling all right, Ginny?" he asked gently, suppressing a yawn and running a hand through his hair. 'Are you, Harry?' She wanted to ask so badly; she wanted to know what he was thinking, feeling, wishing on this Christmas Day. But it wasn't right to push him today. He would tell her; she knew he would. She just didn't want him to wait. "I'm feeling good, Harry," she replied, avoiding the word "fine" as best as she could. "What have you got there?" He grinned. "It's for you from Hermione and Ron. And I don't think it's a book." Ginny slid off the bed onto her feet and walked over to him, taking the small box in surprise. "Not a book?" she echoed, settling down next to him on the hearthrug. He put it in her hands and reached one of his gifts. "Maybe Ron has a bit of sway with her after all. It's too light to be a book," he teased, knocking her lightly with his shoulder. She stuck out her tongue at him. "Maybe it's one of those awful homework planners from last year," he egged, looking appreciatively at the Chudley Cannons souvenirs from Ron. She tossed wrapping paper at him, hitting him square on the chest. "The planner was a thoughtful gift. It helped me greatly," she said primly. He smirked. "I always thought you had an affinity for singing parchments." She blushed, glaring at him as she lifted the lid of the small box. "Shove it, Potter. We're not going to talk about that," she warned, looking down at the contents of the box. She fell silent. A small Celtic charm rested in the cushion of the box, set on a thin silver chain. The charm was quite intricate, but she could make out the outlines of a heart within the knots. She smiled happily, holding it out for Harry to see. "Isn't that lovely? Ron's finally learned how to buy thoughtful gifts. Thank Merlin for Hermione," she commented wryly, looking up to see his reaction to the gift. A mysterious smile played at his lips and he leaned over to look at the necklace more closely, his forehead brushing against her cheek. "It's very nice, Ginny. They did well," he murmured. She grinned and kissed his forehead lightly. "I thought so." He pulled back to continue opening gifts, and they managed to finish without any major distractions. It was almost an hour later before she and Harry were heading down to the Great Hall for a bit of breakfast. They were the only ones in there at the time, so they grabbed a few slices of toast and headed outside. It was bitterly cold, even with the sun shining as brightly as it was. The snow-blanketed grounds blinded them momentarily as they walked towards the frozen lake in silence, feet crunching the snow underneath. She wanted to reach out and grasp his hand, but he had stuffed his hands in the pockets of his robes. The look on his face was pensive and she nudged him gently, wanting to know what he was thinking of. "What's on your mind?" she asked. He was silent for a moment as they continued walking. Then he stopped abruptly, gazing out onto the grounds distantly. "They must be at Mass by now," he muttered. She looked at him curiously. "Who?" "The Dursleys." Her eyebrows shot up at his voluntary mention of his so-called family. What in the world was he thinking about? He cast a glance towards her, and she could see the hate simmering in his eyes. "Do you know what Mass is?" he asked. She nodded. "We just learned about it in Muggle Studies. Why are you thinking of it?" A frown creased his face. "They went to Mass every Christmas, just for show. It was the only time other than Easter that they would enter the church. I was always locked in the cupboard when they left. I would hear them smirking over Dudley like the overly proud parents they were. They would gossip about the neighbors over their Christmas dinner. It was one of the most disgusting things I ever heard," he said bitterly, looking off towards Hagrid's empty hut. The groundskeeper had left earlier in the month on a task for Dumbledore. Ginny kept her silence, waiting for the inevitable words. She had never hated the Dursleys more than she did in that moment. "I envied it." There it was; his pain and grief succinctly expressed in those three words. She wanted to hold him, but he was hunched over, his back to her eyes. "I would have given anything to be able to have parents to praise me, even though I wasn't worth the praise. I just wanted a mum to laud me to her friends before the service, and a dad to clap me on the back and brace me up when the preacher went on too long. I didn't want to go to Mass itself; I liked the idea of it." His voice was low, edged with rough pain. "But bloody Dudley, who never did a day's work in his life, was blessed with parents to smother him and adore his every move. I'm not saying I deserve a real family, but I can't understand why Dudley had to be related to me. Every Christmas I heard taunts about my 'drunken dad' and my 'pathetic mum,' and he took the greatest pleasure in wounding me." She was hurting so much her head felt light. Without a thought, she reached out to touch his shoulder. He flinched at the contact, but she kept her hand there. "Harry..." she whispered, wishing above all she could bring his parents back to him. There was a moment of agonized silence. A shudder rippled through him. "Sirius was all I had," he said brokenly. It was a sucker-punch to the stomach, and tears filled her eyes. "I wish I could give you a real family," she said desperately, dropping her hand from him and hugging herself. "If anyone deserves a family, it's you." He turned to face her suddenly, features twisted with dark pain. "I wish I could be what you want me to be, Ginny. You deserve much more than I can give," he said, breathing shallowly. Her heart clenched and she went to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. "Don't say that, Harry. You're everything I want," she breathed, feeling his arms come up around her waist. His cheek rested against her temple as he crushed her into his embrace. "I don't want to remember, Ginny. I want to forget all of it," he murmured roughly, lips brushing her skin lightly. She took a few deep breaths to help calm her erratic heart, running her hands up and down his back. What was he saying to her? What did he mean? She shivered. She could only imagine... Abruptly, he stiffened. "Damnit, we're so out in the open," he muttered, cursing viciously under his breath as he pulled away. Ginny frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "There are less then ten students in the castle, Harry. Stop worrying and don't be afraid for me," she exclaimed unthinkingly, wincing as his eyes widened at her outburst. There went her holiday. Harry looked at her for a moment and shrugged, lifting his hands helplessly. "I can't help it. I'm not used to this." He reddened as he spoke. She gazed at him in surprise. He hadn't closed off at her accusation; he had actually answered her clearly. Was this a sign of his willingness to talk? "I know, Harry. Maybe you will get used to it, someday," she replied softly. They stood together in the chill for a little while, looking over and assuring one another silently. Then, he held out his hand to her. She smiled and took it, falling into step with him as they walked back up to the castle. ~*~ "You look well this evening, Harry." Harry grinned at Professor Lupin from across the table as he spooned potatoes onto his plate at supper time. The Christmas supper was always splendid at Hogwarts; he liked having the feeling of intimacy with the professors during the quiet holiday. Except for Snape, whom he hated as much as ever. But he wouldn't let the bloody Potions Master ruin his holiday; his thoughts were morbid enough without having Snape running around in them. He felt a hand squeeze his knee underneath the table, and he shot a glance at Ginny. She was smiling cheerfully at him as steady as ever. Only he knew the horrors of her dreams. Pushing that thought from his mind, he looked back at Lupin. "It's been a good day, sir," he said neutrally, watching in amusement as Lupin struggled not to burst out laughing. From the other end of the table, Snape glanced coldly at Harry. Harry didn't permit himself to glare back; it was Christmas, and he was alone with Ginny. There was no need to spoil his holiday. At the head of the table, Dumbledore smiled genially. "Tuck in, friends! The elves have outdone themselves this year." Ginny sighed softly. "Thank Merlin Hermione wasn't here to hear that." "She might think of knitting those bloody hats again if she had," Harry muttered, grinning as she giggled in reply. The ring box in the pocket of his robes shifted, and he bit the inside of his lip anxiously. Dumbledore had given it to him just last week, and he had had time to look at it. It was perfect for Ginny. He was going to give it to her right after supper; what would she think? He was barking mad... Shaking his head, he pushed away his doubts. It was the right thing to do. He wanted to do it. Time dwindled on; the students trickled away as the evening wore on. Soon it was only Harry, Ginny, and the professors at the small table. Lupin was watching him with raised eyebrows. Harry wondered whether he knew of the ring Harry now had. He looked almost knowingly between him and an oblivious Ginny, who was chatting with her Muggle Studies professor, and Harry had to grin. Harry very much wanted to leave and be alone with Ginny. The way her hair was strewn around her shoulders was driving him to distraction. He slipped his hand under the table discreetly, and began running his hand up and down the side of her thigh. Her mouth made a tiny "o" of surprise, and she shot him a look. He raised an eyebrow in reply, trying to suppress his wicked smile. After a moment she stood gracefully from her seat, her composure regained. "Thank you all for a lovely dinner. Happy Christmas," she said politely, flashing a smile at Lupin and Dumbledore. Dumbledore nodded. "Happy Christmas, Miss Weasley," he replied kindly, a knowing twinkle in his blue eyes. She gave a little wave and exited, her robes trailing alluringly behind her. Harry smirked to himself and turned to Lupin. "Having a good holiday, Professor?" Lupin's eyes sparkled. "You look just like James right now, Harry. That poor girl won't know what hit her," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth while nodding politely. "A very good holiday, yes. Thank you for asking, Mr. Potter." Harry's smile widened. "That's what I was hoping," he replied smoothly, answering both statements with the one sentence. Making his farewells to the teachers, Harry left the Great Hall in high spirits, headed for the common room as quickly as he could. He slipped a hand into his pocket, touching the box with his fingers in an act of support. When he entered, he saw Ginny standing by the hearth, arms crossed over her chest. "What the bloody hell do you think you were trying to do to me in there, Harry? In front of all the teachers?" she asked immediately, a small smile of pleasure playing at her lips. He crossed to her swiftly and pulled her face up to his for a brief kiss. "I doubt they noticed a thing; too much Butterbeer," he muttered when he released her, and set her down on his favorite chair. "Let me talk for a minute, all right?" She nodded, completely bewildered. He stood in front of her without moving for a moment, clutching the box in his pocket. "I have a gift for you, Ginny," he began slowly, heart pounding nervously. She cocked her head to one side, looking curious. "All right, Harry." He was hoping that something mood-worthy and suave would pop into his head when he was ready to give it to her, but nothing came. Mouth dry, he pulled the small box out slowly and held it out to her in his palm. "I'm not sure if you'll like it," he muttered, looking down at his shoes out of nervous habit. "Hush, Harry. Oh my," she breathed, reaching out shakily to grasp the box. He felt the weight leave his hand and he braved a glance at her face. She was wide-eyed and gaping in shock, holding it in her palm and staring at it in wonder. His brow furrowed in confusion; was that how girls opened ring boxes? "Ginny—--" She hushed him with a wave of her free hand. Her fingers lifted the lid of the little black box, and Harry held his breath unconsciously. Ginny gasped and pulled the ring from its holder, lifting it up to her eyes in incredulity. "Harry, this is beautiful," she whispered. He let out his breath and leaned in closer to look at the design with her. The band was gold, and in the center was a heart-shaped emerald with a crown of gold engraved above it. Two hands of gold were holding the heart. It was simple, elegant, and beautiful. He could admire the choice by his father; it was perfect. Ginny met his gaze with watery brown eyes. "Was this your mother's?" she asked softly. He nodded. She took a deep breath and smiled tremulously. "Oh, Harry. I love it. Thank you so much," she murmured, reaching out to brush the fringe from his forehead. Harry smiled gently at her teary face, pulling something else from his pocket. "I know you can't wear it on your hand quite yet, but I ordered a chain for you to wear it on," he said, holding out a thin gold chain to her. She returned his smile, took the chain and pocketed it. "I want to wear it right now, if that's all right," she whispered, slipping the band onto her left ring finger and leaning up to kiss his mouth. "This is wonderful, Harry." He had to disagree as he wrapped his arms around her, falling into the chair on top of her, and tangled his hands in her hair. This was wonderful. His body was flip-flopping between hot and cold as she slipped her hands underneath his robes, tracing the lines of his muscles through the Weasley jumper he had received that morning. Struggling to control his aching limbs, he was fighting a losing battle. Ginny wasn't helping his self-restraint at all; her nimble fingers were already pushing the robes off his shoulders, searching for the hem of his sweater. Running his hand down her side as he kissed her, he brushed against the side of her breast and something electric and dangerous shot through him. Screaming for logic to set in, his mind was reeling. He couldn't do this with her yet; they had barely had any sort of relationship, she was only fifteen! Besides those facts, he didn't want to do this if he didn't love her. He cared a great deal for her, certainly, but he didn't understand what love was. How could he feel something he didn't understand? "Ginny," he gasped as he made himself break away from her, meeting her drugged brown eyes. "Ginny, we can't do this." Her brow furrowed and he could see the confusion on her face. Her hands tightened on his waist. "What do you mean?" she whispered. Bloody hell. He did not want to have to tell her he didn't know how he felt about her. That would ruin everything they had shakily built over the last few days. Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand through his messy hair and met her gaze squarely. "We're not ready for this yet," he said slowly, resting his hand on her waist. "I don't want to do something we might..." He trailed off, cringing at the wounded look in her eyes. He had been about to finish his sentence with the word "regret," but he knew that would've upset her even more. She released her grip on him immediately, the hurt clearly displayed on her face. "I'm sorry, Harry. I don't know what got into me," she murmured, keeping her gaze away from his. Wincing inwardly, he smacked himself mentally and cupped her cheek in his hand, bringing her eyes back to his. "That's not what this is about, love. I just want to make sure that we're ready when it happens. I mean, if you want it to happen, or..." A little laugh escaped her mouth, and she leaned up to kiss his cheek, looking a bit mollified by his stumbling words. "Harry, be quiet. It's fine. You're right; I'm not ready." Pushing at his chest, she let him scramble off of her before she hopped up from the chair, smiling softly at him. "I've got to go up to my room for a few minutes. I'll be right back." He nodded mutely, straining not to let her tousled hair, bright eyes, and slipping clothes affect him noticeably. With one last smile, Ginny turned and walked towards the girls' staircase, disappearing in a swirl of red and black. Harry took a few very deep breaths, and raced from the common room to his own room, sprinting to the loo. If he was going to be in the same room as her again this night, he needed a shower right now. A very cold shower. ~*~ It was only a dream, he reminded himself, as he watched the nighttime gathering from above, fear thumping in his veins. The bonfire sent sparks up into the cold air, and the black-robed group huddled close to the blazing inferno, seeking warmth in the dead of winter. He could only grab snatches of conversation; plans for attacks on Muggles, Fudge's weakening state, their own questions of their Master's plots. His hearing was coming and going with the cold winds that filled the clearing. Sweat iced his brow as he saw a few familiar faces, but there weren't as many at this gathering as there had been at the last Death Eater meeting he had been at, the ceremony that had occurred the night of the Third Task almost two years ago. Then, his eyes found Draco Malfoy's pale face. His stomach plummeted, and he felt anger rising up in him. Like father like son. He didn't expect less from the malicious Slytherin. Footsteps came from one side, and the group's murmurs halted abruptly as a tall, thin man walked towards the bonfire, flanked by a small, hunched figure. The Death Eaters dipped into low bows as their Master entered their space by the fire. A long, bony hand pulled back his hood, and Voldemort's face was revealed. He looked at his submissive followers coldly for a moment, then spoke: "Is the younger Malfoy here?" "I am, Master." Malfoy stepped out from the rest, a cool mask of deference on his face. "Then we will proceed as planned." Voldemort reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. The Death Eaters made a tight circle around the two figures in the middle. Malfoy looked especially pale as he lifted his left arm out to Voldemort. The Dark Lord grasped his wrist with one hand and pushed up the sleeve of his robes, revealing his bare forearm. There was a murmuring in the circle as Voldemort lowered the tip of his wand to Malfoy's white skin, whispering an indiscernible incantation. Hot, slicing agony exploded in his forehead. There was a sound of searing skin. He could smell the scent of burnt flesh, and his stomach twisted in revulsion. Horror overwhelmed him as Malfoy opened his mouth to yell in pain, writhing in Voldemort's grasp. But it wasn't his scream that Harry heard. Harry shot up in his bed, scar sending ripples of torture through his body as a scream ripped through the room, rough and hoarse with agony. His visions forgotten, he leapt from his bed by the dead fire, searching blindly for the screamer in the dark of the common room. Knocking into Ginny's bed, he ignored the stubborn ache in his injured foot as he reached for the screaming girl, shaking her to consciousness. "Ginny, wake up," he said gently, wrapping his arms around her as she clutched his shoulders, sobbing wildly into his chest as nonsense words escaped her gasping lips. Kissing her hair, he cradled her in his lap and tried to comfort her, not understanding how he could relieve her suffering. "It's all right, love," he whispered into her ear. "You're going to be fine." Crying desperately, she shuddered in his arms. He could feel her tears on his shirtless skin. "He's going to kill Harry...It's all my fault. Harry's going to die...Don't kill Harry! Stop, Tom! Stop," she said brokenly, fingers tightening their hold on his shoulders. A sick swell of hate swooped over him and Harry pulled Ginny's quivering form closer to his body, closing his eyes to the heart-rending cries and the thoughts of anger filling his mind and ears. Possessiveness and protectiveness rose within him, and he made a secret promise to himself and Ginny as she sobbed herself into a restless sleep in his arms. He would never let her come to any harm, even if it meant dying for her. It was his secret on that cold winter night. It made him forget his dreams. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N: It was hard to write all the angst with all the happiness in this chapter, so I hope it flows well. I'm sorry if I've taken longer then what some readers wanted, but I had a bit of an upheaval, and I also had a bit of block. Please read and review!
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