The night had turned out to be a fitful rest for Harry.
He had fallen into a routine of drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness, and nightmares would come double.
The worst dreams, however, had been the ones involving Sirius. His godfather’s face swam in and out of focus, ever silent, his once over bright eyes deadened and cold - like when he first escaped Azkaban.
He’s gone -
Harry awoke with a gasp, his bed sheets twisted around his legs, a sheen layer of sweat on his forehead. He felt himself tremble terribly and that same sense of emptiness filled him - that emptiness that had once been Sirius. But a new one had taken company as well.
Harry lay back down, his hand shaking as he wiped his sweaty brow, and had a sudden fleeting vision of a long mane of red hair.
Ginny.
Wow, Potter, haven’t you let yourself slip, he thought wryly. Then again . . .
Sighing, Harry pulled the sheets off of his legs and climbed out of bed, pulling on some socks he’d left on top of his trunk to keep his feet warm.
Careful not to wake Ron, Harry crept silently out of the bedroom.
He stared at the girl's bedroom door, his brow furrowed.
He wondered if she was awake. Was she thinking about him? Above all, was she cross with him?
She has every right to be, he thought. I have become the world’s biggest prat, after all.
To some degree he knew it was true, but at the same time he was . . . unnerved.
But he knew he would still try to speak with her soon. He couldn’t avoid her forever, after all. And she had six older brother’s that would probably beat him to a pulp if he ever hurt her. . .
Ginny lay awake in her bed, willing herself not to cry.
Don’t you cry, she told herself firmly. The kiss probably doesn’t mean anything to him, anyway.
She swiped at the tears of frustration and confusion.
For years she was noting but “Ron’s Little Sister” or “My Best Friend’s Sister” to him, and then all of a sudden he’d kissing her. How could he?
Why, oh why did I have to kiss him back? she thought miserably.
Because it’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? reasoned a voice. Because it’s what you’ve hoped for these past four years.
Now that was just . . . crazy. . .
Ginny gave an angry huff.
She had half a mind to slap him around for being such a smarmy git! Such a fool. . .
Suddenly, she heard the door groan open and she gave a startled movement, quickly pretending to be asleep. No doubt that was her mother. Knowing Molly Weasley and her motherly senses, she would check and see if Ginny was all right. And Ginny really didn’t want to be bothered. Besides - it was two in the morning!
She opened an eye slightly, not to see a familiar mane of flaming red hair, but a rather dark, unruly head.
And he was looking right at her!
Ginny prayed he would not spot her wet cheeks, cursing herself for not putting out that everlasting candle on her bedside table.
“Ginny?”
~When first we kissed~
~Blame it on my youth~
Should she answer him?
But he’s the Prat Of The Century today, said a voice. The smarmiest boy in the whole universe.
Ginny?” came his whispered voice again. “Are you awake?”
~I did exist~
~Blame it on my youth~
Her heart was pounding madly in her throat. She swallowed hard.
“Ginny, I know you’re awake,” Harry whispered.
Ginny nearly winced as her breath constricted. He had seen her tear-stained face. . .
No.
It he wanted to speak with her, then he’d have to do so at a normal hour of the day. And when she had enough time to get a clear head, because right now she felt very angry with him.
~When first I learned the truth~
Ginny opened her eyes to see he’d finally gone, and lay back into her pillow with a miserable huff.
Harry sighed, his hand still resting on the doorknob.
What had he been thinking? She was surely cross with him - and worse, it looked like she had been crying.
~Blame it on~
~My youth~
When Harry awoke the next morning, it was to find Tonks shaking him.
“Geroff - I didn’t do it!” he heard Ron say.
“Come on, mate!” said Tonks cheerfully, ruffling his already sleep-trousled hair. “It’s already ten - you boy’s should have been up an hour ago!”
Harry groaned, reaching under her for his glasses.
Once he could see clearly, he noticed that Bill was poking his youngest brother in an effort to awaken him.
“Bill - Geroff already - I’m up!” Ron said crossly, trying to edge away from assault.
But as soon as Bill seemed to give out, looking satisfied, Ron crawled back under his blankets.
“That’s it -”
Bill ripped the blankets off of Ron, making the boy curl up at the sudden loss.
Harry grinned as he was reminded of Ginny when she had done that. He recalled on her words.
“Shut up and listen!”
Well. One could certainly say she’d knocked some much-needed sense into him.
As soon as it had come, Harry felt the grin slide off of his face as he remembered the night before, and how cross she was with him now.
“Ronald Weasley - do I need to come over there and wake up myself?” Tonks said in a mock-deadly voice.
But Ron seemed to have taken the comment seriously, for the next moment he was rolling out of bed, grumbling. After all, Tonks was notorious for these kinds of things.
Harry followed his suit, gathering a shirt and jeans from his trunk.
“Don’t take too long!” Tonks called as he exited the room.
After a shower, Harry felt more awake, soon trudging into the dining room for breakfast.
It seemed nearly every member that was at the party last night had slept over. All over were sleepy, pale faces, trying to wake up over steaming cups of tea.
Harry’s heart began to beat wildly as he saw her beside Hermione, looking pretty as ever as she spoke across the table with George.
But as he continued to watch her, she met his gaze, and her eyes flashed.
That look was very forbidding, and told him one thing: “Don’t you dare.”
Great, thought Harry.
And just to add to his luck, the only empty seat was the one beside her.
“Harry, dear, are you all right?”
Harry jolted himself back into reality, Mrs. Weasley standing before him, a plate of breakfast in hands.
“Ah - yes - good morning, Mrs. Weasley,” responded the sixteen-year-old.
“Well - hurry up, we should have left an hour and a half ago!” said Mrs. Weasley, pushing the plate into his hands.
Dread building by the second, Harry sat down beside Ginny, careful not to bump elbows or brush her side, putting as much space between them as possible.
“Er - morning, Gin.”
She just went about ignoring him.
Oh, this was worse than ever. . . He had to talk to her now.
“Ginny,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”
Her jaw clenched.
“I guess I shouldn’t have kissed you then,” Harry said. “I feel like a stupid prat.”
She suddenly looked over at him, her eyes over bright.
“Yes, you are a prat, but not for kissing me,” she said. “You should know full well why you’re a prat, Harry James.”
Harry was confused. Then what - and why?
Ginny turned away from him.
“I’m gonna go finish getting ready, Hermione,” he heard her murmur before she stood up and thanked her mother for breakfast, swiftly exiting.
I can't believe it - I finally used a song that wasn't done by Fefe Dobson or Yellowcard. Completely differen't now - one that inspired a bit for this was the great new band Keene - but I give nearly all the credit to Jamie Cullum (one could say I love British invasion music). He has a song on his awesome album called, "Blame it on my Youth," which explains the text beginning and ending with ~
I suggest that if you are a lover of jazz - you should definitely buy the album - it's fantastic!
But in the meantime, while you wait for the next chappie - please, please, please review!