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Author: Jenna Mae Story: Family Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-OotP Status: Completed Reviews: 1 Words: 55,771
"See you later, guys," Hermione called as she headed for her Arithmancy class, while Harry and Ron went to Divination. "See you, Ron." "'Bye, my own," Ron said. Harry's jaw dropped in surprise. "Your—what did you call her?" Ron gave him a warning glance as he waved goodbye to Hermione, then steered him towards the Divination classroom. "My own—Hermione minus ‘her' and ‘nee'," Ron explained. Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Geez, Ron! Where in the world did you pick up something like that?" Ron grinned mischievously. "I tell you, Harry, the inspiration comes." Harry's mouth widened. "Mush!" he exclaimed. Ron, however, was still grinning. "Ah, come on now, Harry. When your girl comes, you'll probably say even mushier things." "I won't," said Harry as they ascended a staircase. "I'm looking at you now, and I don't want to look like you—ever." "Harry," Ron said in the serious tone of a professor, "girls do those things to you. When you're totally in love with one, you'll do things you never thought you'd do." Never, even in Harry's wildest imagination, had he thought Ron would say such things. Ron's eyes were practically gleaming. "Oh yeah…I mean, it's a different feeling, having a warm body just beside you—" Harry's eyes widened in shock. "—and you've got the liberty to just reach out and hug it, you know. And of course, it's this…feeling that you're with someone you can give your whole heart to." "Looks like you've fallen pretty hard," Harry commented, marveling at how scrawny, freckly Ron Weasley ended up giving love advice to an ignorant bloke like him. Just last year, Ron had told Hermione that he would only go with someone whose nose was in the right place. He looked at Ron sideways; Ron was staring at something invisible with his eyes glazed, grinning to himself stupidly. Harry had to stifle an amused laugh. Potions class on Thursday afternoon was as unbearable as always. Snape was giving a lecture on how to make a Forgetfulness Brew. It seemed to Harry that Snape was overly keen on testing the particular potion on him, although he hoped he wouldn't find out why on that particular day. Snape's eyes flared. "If you must know, no one had to do anything to make your father do such insufferable mischief. James Potter did nothing but prance about the place in his overlarge Quidditch robes, acting like he owned the castle, which was in total contradiction to the complete fool he really was—" "LOOK! SHUT UP! DON'T GIVE ME ALL THAT B—!" A long, stifling silence followed. He had done it. He had lost control. The whole class stared at Harry and Snape, the Gryffindors with their mouths open in shock and horror. "Eighty points from Gryffindor," Snape growled, his eyes alight with fury. "And a detention you won't soon forget. If you ever utter a swear word in front of me again, I'll make sure you get expelled from this school." Harry didn't care; he didn't give a damn that he had just lost eighty points for Gryffindor. There was a ringing in his ears, his hands were clenching and unclenching themselves, and his teeth were grinding together. "Eighty points!" Hermione squealed angrily as they got out of the dungeons a while later. "Eighty points at one go, Harry! I know he was being really...but really! Why didn't you just say something else?" Harry was still angry, so angry that he was still causing small things like Hermione's quill to shrivel. "What, rephrase it like, ‘don't give me all that male cow muck'? I wouldn't bother saying it like that when he just called my dad a fool and an idiot." He glared at Ron. "What did you say to Malfoy the last time he insulted your family?" Ron opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. Hermione stared at her feet. "You're lucky he's just Malfoy," Harry went on, stomping. "Snape can be a pain in the arse at times." Harry scrubbed the dungeons on Friday night. It was worse than scrubbing the whole of the Great Hall. Liquids that burnt holes on the tables kept spilling everywhere. Each nook and cranny seemed to hold a unique smell of its own. Rats darted here and there; spiders scuttled everywhere. He didn't know where to put the scattered frog brains, dragon livers, rat droppings, and all of the other potion ingredients. At the end, he just gathered them (with his bare hands) and threw them all down the drain. He smelled like a cauldron of Polyjuice Potion himself as he quietly entered the common room at half past one in the morning. He was greeted not by a person, but by a sweet-sounding singing voice that suddenly made his heart light. "Each night I pray…that we can be together once again…. Harry had to lean back against the wall. Never in his whole life had he dreamt of hearing a voice as beautiful as this. For a moment there, with his whole body still aching, he closed his eyes as if willing the melody to take him…it was as if the voice was singing to him…. "You and I, we have moments left to share He saw his mother. He didn't know why. She was smiling at him; her green eyes were sparkling like mad—then she broke into a wide grin. He never knew she was that beautiful. She was walking towards him— "You and I, we belong in each other's arms The voice suddenly stopped. As Harry opened his eyes, he saw someone emerge from one of the armchairs in front of the fire. It was Ginny. "Harry! You—you smell like dung." The aftereffects of the vision suddenly vanished when Harry saw Ginny's startled and—a nanosecond later—amused look. He smiled wryly. "I've noticed." He looked at her curiously. "Was that you singing?" "Yeah," she said, turning back to look at the fire. Harry felt that she was probably blushing again. "Why?" "I just—I was thinking that...you have a beautiful voice." When Ginny looked at him again, she was indeed blushing and grinning. "Why, thanks, but…can I just say I don't feel the need to talk to someone who smells like dungbombs? How about taking a shower first before we talk?" Harry raised his eyebrows. "You want to talk? Aren't you sleepy yet?" "I slept right after dinner and woke up just before midnight," said Ginny. "You have funny sleeping hours," Harry commented. Ginny smiled mischievously. "You wouldn't say that if I told you I caught Ron and Hermione down here. They were—supposed to be waiting for you." Her grin widened. "Gee," Harry said dryly. "I wonder what they were doing instead." About ten minutes later, Harry had gone down to the common room again. He was wearing pajamas, and his thick black hair was a wet mess on his head. For some reason, he took his Invisibility Cloak with him. Ginny was still sitting on the armchair, staring into the fire. She looked up at Harry when he arrived. "Do you normally do this?" Harry asked, removing his glasses and wiping a drop of water from the lenses. "You wake up at midnight, stare into the fire, and sing to yourself?" "Nope," said Ginny. She was staring at him with an unreadable _expression in her eyes. "At least, not normally. This is just one of those nights." "Tell me about it," Harry groaned as he sat down on an armchair. "I mean, this is one of those nights. Snape and Filch can be dead murderous." Harry closed his eyes and began to rub his shoulders until he felt a pair of hands on them. "Want some help?" Even as Ginny said it, she was already sitting on the arm of his armchair, pressing her fingers on the base of his neck. Harry's face suddenly felt hot. He was lucky he had the back of his head toward her; otherwise she would have seen his face at its reddest. But then again, maybe the back of his neck and ears were just as red. Once, back at Privet Drive, he had caught Dudley watching TV at midnight. Dudley's reaction was priceless, but the…thing…that he saw on the screen was unpleasantly unforgettable. The "thing" kept popping back into his mind right then and there, while Ginny's soft hands worked down his shoulders. Why did the blonde woman have to gobble that bloke on the neck like that? And she had gone on…and on…. Harry shuddered. "No, really—I think I'll be fine—" "Yeah, right," she said, continuing to massage his shoulders. "Come on—I mean, I used to give Fred and George one of these—they say I'm a lot better than Mum. Don't tell me you don't like it." Harry didn't. It wasn't that she didn't soothe the most painful parts on his shoulders, arms and back—it was just that he felt rigid on his seat, apprehensive at the thought of a girl's touch on his skin. And it wasn't any girl; this was Ginny Weasley, and her touch was wonderfully warm and soft. In time, though, he began to relax. He was so tired that he began to close his eyes and sigh with relief. This was good. This was really good…. "I heard what you did at Potions last Thursday," Ginny said, breaking the silence. Harry kept his eyes closed, but grinned. "You mean that word I yelled at Snape?" "Yeah—and I heard why you said it in the first place." Harry didn't say anything. "I thought that was mighty brave of you, and I'm proud of you." Harry opened his eyes. "Proud of what? My choice of words?" "No—for sticking up for your parents." "I could have said it without making Gryffindor lose eighty points," Harry said, cringing slightly when he remembered what he had done. Gryffindor was out of the lead once more—Slytherin was now about forty points up. "Yeah—but who cares. Everyone here feels that Snape had been too much." Harry didn't reply again. It was Ginny, again, who spoke up—this time in a tender tone. "Do you miss them, Harry?" Harry never talked to anyone about his family before, unless he counted that short conversation with the reporter Rita Skeeter just last year. "Yeah," he said, and he was surprised at how smoothly his voice came out. With Ginny, it was like that. It was like he could share a piece of himself with her. "Of course. I couldn't help but wish they were still here." He smiled solemnly. "Not that your family's not great, Gin, ‘cause you guys have been nothing but great." He heard Ginny sigh sadly as she rested her hands on his shoulders. "Still, nothing's better than having both of your parents with you, right?" Her voice broke slightly. Harry's thoughts unconsciously drifted back to his parents' wedding rings. "Nothing at all," he said quietly. And as he said it, he suddenly felt as if there was something heavy settling on his chest and burrowing into it. At that moment, his stomach gave out a huge groan. Ginny stopped massaging his shoulders and stepped back. "Oh, Harry," she moaned, "does that mean you haven't eaten dinner yet?" Harry stood up and smiled at her. "Snape's that mean." He picked up the Invisibility Cloak he had been sitting on all the while, and inspiration came to him—sudden, mischievous inspiration. "Look, I know I'm being a bad influence and your mum wouldn't be too happy if she found out, but…if I told you I was sneaking into the kitchens, would you come with me?" Harry watched Ginny's mouth fall open in shock. "But—but you just got detention tonight!" she managed to croak out. "Like I told you, this is one of those nights." Harry grinned once more, his green eyes glinting impishly. "Might as well make the most of it. Look," he added when Ginny still looked skeptical, "I promise I'll do all the work if Filch catches us and puts us in detention." Author's Notes: Thanks to Lisa (NightZephyr), my SQ beta reader, for straightening this difficult chapter out. :)
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