Chapter 25 From The Thorn Of His Rose...
A/N: Ahh... This chapter is slow but I've always wanted to revisit CoS and write about Ginny's first encounter with Harry at the Burrow. Please be patient. The focus of this chapter is how through hearing herself speak about Harry outloud, Ginny will begin her path to recovery.
Still drowsy from the cold medicine she took earlier, Ginny sat stoically by her dresser, gazing longingly at the picture of her and Harry, the dynamic photo of him embracing her in his arms, her bare foot dangling awkwardly as he galloped energetically to the backstage after their very successful performance. The image was like a groom carrying his bride excitedly on their way to their first intimate wedding night. Even though she wasn’t in a wedding dress, everything else made her feel like they were newlyweds, with her long sheer flowing red gown matching perfectly with his suit, together bounded by the enchanting spotlight and earth shattering applause. For a brief moment, when Dumbledore declared them the winner, it was as if he was playing the role of the priest, pronouncing them as husband and wife. She wondered nostalgically how many times this particular portrait had appeared in her fantasies since the first time she met him behind her door.
Ginny chuckled at the way she was resisting Harry defiantly, fighting his grips, trying to set herself free, because she was upset he scooped her up without her permission. On the other hand, she was thrilled he overpowered her protests and refused to let her go. For once, he did not let her have her way. He took the initiative, freely allowing his hands to explore her skin, using the excuse of her losing a shoe to manhandle her dangerously for the first time. Admittedly, she didn’t put up much of a struggle, because she was too busy savoring his touch. It had been too long since the last time he held her.
With her finger gingerly tracing the borders of the jigsaw puzzle on her dresser, she mused how their bodies were seemingly fitted perfectly with each other in the picture, with her hips matching every aspect of his grip. Together, they were just like two neighboring jigsaw puzzle pieces that used to be one, before they were ruthlessly torn apart.
It was the same sensation two years ago, when she bravely obliterated all the barriers between them and pressed herself intimately against him at the church that memorable night, daringly using her body like a hot blanket to keep him alive. Under the careful watch of a pair of beaming angels, she could still remember how every inch of his muscle simply united seamlessly with her flaming skin. In his unconsciousness, she unleashed her inhibitions onto him. He would unknowingly let her have her paradise, and in the process, she almost made him hers that night.
In her mind, the photo of the performance represented the future, a fairy tale fantasy, and what could be possible for the two of them, if only she could let go of the reality that was her past, a stubborn imprint nailed to her heart. She need not look further to receive her anguish reminder; a piece of it was vividly displayed on a second photo taken at the Leaky Cauldron last year, hidden behind the frame.
She gently disassembled the frame and laid the contrasting pictures beside each other. It had been awhile since she saw the second photo. The corners were slightly curled and there were some discolored patches. It must be from wear and tear, she rationalized. But one thing she couldn't deny was the reason why it was hidden; the sour feelings from seeing the morbid expressions of Harry and him pulling away from her grip in that picture were unbearable.
The arm of the grandfather clock on the dresser was methodically swinging back and forth atop the two pictures, imitating the movement of her debating eyes. It was as if it was asking her to choose between the two of them. The seconds continued to pass her by, hurrying her to come to a decision, but she still could not make up her mind.
Despite the grogginess and combined with the tumble she suffered after waking up from her dramatic dream of the picnic, she was certain Harry had been in her room earlier. She knew boys were out of bounds in the girls’ dorms, but the mysterious return of his jacket would be the confirmation she needed, that he had been here, and he had left it behind. Indeed, she was truly in his arms earlier, and it wasn't a dream, she convinced herself helplessly. She lethargically trudged to the bed with it, hoping she could sleep off the melancholy drowning her lungs.
Smiling sardonically, she was certainly not prepared to have his jacket rebound back to her so quickly, after having it returned to him just yesterday night. Just like her efforts to completely shed herself of his lingering green eyes would ultimately prove to be futile at the end. This must be some form of sadistic punishment, she grilled herself. In fact, she figured everything that happened between her and Harry was simply one nasty joke. She kept asking herself why she had to stand next to him by the staircase under the mistletoe two years ago, an encounter that led to all of this.
As she rested his jacket on her bed, she noticed a beautiful rose was sleeping on her bedside, the one Harry had used to tickle her neck earlier, before he stormed out after having recovered his memory. Seeing it by itself, the vibrant red petals and long stem, made her remember the rose he gave her at the picnic. He had tried so hard to impress her that day, intending to perform an array of magic tricks, only to conjure up just one successful spell for her. It was this one, and he surprised her by pulling it out from his sleeve and inserting it in her hair.
Little did she know, that picnic would mark the last time she got to truly hold him as a couple. It was also the last time her eyes would grace his unscarred face, sporting the most wonderful of expressions and sparkling green stars for her. All the unfortunate events would soon follow, where he would fall into a coma when he selflessly shielded her from the attack in the passageway to Hogsmeade. Immediately after, his memory was stolen, leaving her with only a lifeless cold jacket as a consolation prize. Just like the rose, what they shared was not timeless, contrary to what she had believed. Everything she treasured quickly wilted in front of her eyes.
”Ginny…” he uttered to their final goodbyes when they were trapped in the imaginary world before he lost consciousness. The Harry that woke up weeks later was a different person. His eyes would no longer sparkle at her. Once again, he would go back to playing the role of being just her brother’s best friend.
Without thinking, Ginny reached for the stem carelessly, only to release it to the ground when a flash of acute pain scorched her finger. Looking at her fresh wound, there was a drop of warm blood on her fingertip, expanding as red as the petals. Who would have known that something so beautiful and flawless could inflict so much pain, she thought to herself.
The thorn from the rose must be in the shape of a key, because for some reason, it was unlocking the diary that resided in her heart, to the entry that documented the first time she met him behind her door. Coincidentally, she had recounted that breathtaking moment with Sam this morning, when she came asking her to join them to Hogsmeade. They ended up having a long shouting match about him, after she cornered the little girl into admitting she had a crush on her mentor.
Ginny wanted to assure Sam it was fine for her to have feelings for Harry. Of all people, she should understand this, because, she too, was helplessly spellbound by him at the tender age of eleven. She reminded Sam they were indeed similar individuals and she convinced her to open up by describing to her what happened the first time she met him at the Burrow.
Ginny was not surprised she could recite that day in such vivid detail. Indeed, she could still hear his tentative footsteps as he approached her doorstep with Ron. Prior to meeting him, she had heard a lot of spectacular stories about him, helping her formulate obsessively a grand distinguished image of him. However, after witnessing his friendly timid face, she was pleasantly surprised by his modesty. He certainly didn’t match her mental images, because he was so much more; he turned out to be so much better in person. Despite all his accomplishments, he was a humbled polite gentleman. He was no more than the boy next door, but he turned out to be the boy her eyes would only see for the rest of her life, and someone who would become her guardian angel along the way.
It was a short encounter, because she immediately shut her door after he caught her mesmerized brown eyes admiring him, but it was enough for her to absorb every particle of his magnificent details, and say to herself that he was the ideal boy for her. She quickly pleaded to the skies, wishing he would someday notice the silly little girl that was her. She had made her choice that would change her life forever.
Ginny comforted Sam firmly, letting her know it was safe if Harry were to find out about her feelings. She reassured Sam that Harry knew of her crush from the beginning when she was eleven, but he reacted by being very thoughtful, pretending as if he didn’t know.
Thinking back to all the little mishaps along the way, she was convinced he was aware after he caught her peeking at him, blushing and knocking her porridge bowl to the floor, and putting her elbow in her butter dish nervously when he asked her a simple question the next day. Coupled with the confessions she wrote in the Riddle diary about him, and Ron teasing her blatantly in front of Myrtle and him, he had to be mental to not realize the truth, but he never made an issue of her silliness or laughed at her. She realized she was infatuated with him at the beginning, but through his genuine kindness, he unknowingly gave her a reason to truly love him.
Most boys would have destroyed her if they found out about these things, Ginny explained to Sam. Ginny recalled her own brothers were making fun of her heartlessly, but Harry was not like the other boys. He was different. He was already a considerate gentleman when he was only twelve years old. Meanwhile, being only one year younger, she was still admittedly, a foolish immature little girl.
Ginny told Sam she never thanked Harry for everything he did for her that year, even though she meant nothing to him at the time. Not only did he risk his life to save hers, she would never forget the way he protected her afterwards. Because he was afraid she would be expelled for opening the Chamber, he told his story to Dumbledore and her parents very carefully, mindfully glancing at her the entire time to make sure she was all right. Every word was so meticulously chosen because he didn’t want to get her in trouble, despite the fact he had just gone through a harrowing experience and almost died himself. But through the ordeal, he genuinely placed an enormous amount of priority on her and her feelings. He didn’t want her to suffer any more trauma. She would eternally be grateful, and she faithfully wanted to thank him and let him know that his silent efforts had not gone unnoticed.
During their conversation, Ginny, through hearing her own explanations to Sam and her words about Harry, would finally understand what the Headmaster meant when he described how Harry was a person with commendable qualities. Harry’s sincere kindness simply moved people in unbelievable ways, just as it did with Aria, and the same thing happened to Sam, and unfortunately, possibly more girls in the future.
“Ginny, it doesn’t matter how many girls would fall for him or throw themselves at him! What matters is how he feels about you! You still don’t get it!” Sam blasted, trying to retort Ginny for suggesting that she could no longer compete for Harry’s attention.
Once again, Sam insisted nothing was going on between her and her mentor. For her to be so worked up about Harry spoke volumes to Ginny, however. Nevertheless, she was not resentful of Sam. Instead, she was impressed by her, a girl so young yet so mature, selflessly putting her own unreciprocated feelings for Harry aside in order to make way for Ginny.
“Girls from the entire school wanted him for the competition! Others just want him… for his celebrity… status, fame! He could have them all but he turned them all down, and you should know why!” she continued ringing determinedly into Ginny’s dizzying ears.
“Isn't it obvious he doesn’t want anyone else but you as his partner for the competition?” she screeched madly.
“You broke his heart… when you chose Oliver Wood,” Sam’s face contorted painfully as her breath began to lose the ability to power her screams. “I was with Harry the entire time… while you were too busy practicing with Wood. You were too blind to notice… how sad Harry was, seeing you… leaving with… another boy… every day!”
At the time, Ginny was too weak to counter Sam. Contrary to her fiery accusations, Ginny did notice Harry’s pain the past three months. Instead of shouting back, all Ginny could do was cover her face with her blanket in an attempt to shut Sam out, but she was relentless in her defense for Harry.
“Do you know why he was able to do your routine so flawlessly? It’s because he memorized the entire program, all the choreography! He…
“He… would wake up early… and watch you… practice with Oliver… everyday… to make sure you’re safe…
“Ginny, he truly cares about you. He loves you. Ginny, you… have to believe me…” Sam’s cracking voice began to slip off-key as it pierced through the covers. That was all Ginny could remember before the room fell silent as she cried herself to sleep.
Pulling herself out of the memories from this morning’s argument, she glanced at her finger. The blood had gone dry. The wound had passed. Could it be this easy, she pondered hopefully.
She gathered up the rose, this time more carefully, and placed it back on her bed. With her drowsiness dissipating, she wanted to find Harry, even though she didn’t know why. She zoomed to the dresser to tidy up her face, patting on some light makeup to hide the anguish written all over.
“It is not the rose to blame for the thorns. He didn’t mean to hurt you. Harry is truly a good person…” Ginny could hear her reflection mutter to her.
“He… deserves a second chance. You have to find it in you to forgive him...”
Just as she was done putting her lipstick on hastily, tears inadvertently started to roll and they began to faint the superficial colors. Not knowing what to do anymore, she snapped her lipstick in frustration and tossed it into her reflection.
Her tears were in conflict too. The pearls from her left eye were from the pain he inflicted on her, but they were matched, drop for drop, by the ones flowing from her right eye, those of which were undoubtedly for the abiding love she had for him. She was torn.
The Boy Next Door by gossipweaver
Chapter Notes: Hearing herself speak about that day would remind her of the reasons why she loves him, and why he deserves a second chance, but how can a memory so endearing can make the heart feel so sour…