First ever published works! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, or any of the other stuff in here that is probably copyrighted. (if I did I wouldn’t be writing fics)
Chapter 1
Harry Potter turned his head to look out the window, where a storm was raging, the lightning flashes illuminating the swaying trees and the sheets of rain pouring from the sky. There was a feeling of tension in the air; something was about to happen.
He looked across at his girlfriend, Sara, who was reading a book in her favourite armchair by the fire, and was obviously not feeling the suspense that was almost suffocating Harry. They had been going out for about three years now, which meant that everyone else thought that they were getting pretty serious, and it was only Harry who thought that this wasn’t going to be a permanent relationship.
Because the longer he was with Sara, the more he felt that he had to get away. The guilt and pain that he felt whenever he was around her made him want to yell out loud. She’s gone. You have to move on. But the more he told himself this, the more the thought of what could have been absorbed him, enveloping his heart in an ice-cold grip.
He stood up and walked into the lounge, needing to be away from Sara for a moment. He sat on the expensive, uncomfortable seat that she had insisted on buying last year, and picked up the photo album that Sara had been arranging all of their photos in for the past two days. Some of the photos were still sitting in the back of the album; he picked these up and started to shuffle through them.
These pictures were much older than the ones already in the album. There was some of Sara as a little girl, her smile frozen forever in a mischievous grin. Here were the photos of her first day at school, looking nervously excited as she clutched her bag in one hand and her mother’s hand in the other. Then suddenly, as he put down the last picture of his girlfriend, an invisible hand seemed to clutch his throat.
The last photo showed a pretty girl, laughing as she ran to one side of the frame, her brilliant red hair rippling in the breeze. She pulled a man with messy black hair and glasses into the frame, and he wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head, before pulling her down onto the grass.
Harry put the photo down, gasping for air as though he had done two laps of a pool underwater. He thought he had put all his magical photos under the floorboard in his bedroom; Sara was a muggle, and he didn’t think she knew about Ginny either.
He picked up the photos from where he had dropped them on the ground, and started to put them back in the back of the album, leaving the picture of Ginny on the floor. He had just finished doing this when he heard Sara yawn, and her footsteps getting louder as she came closer to the lounge.
He quickly hid the photo and picked up a book that was lying on the coffee table, and pretended that he hadn’t heard her coming. She tapped him on the shoulder and he jumped in fake surprise, then stood and faced her.
“You know, you really should have that scar checked, honey,” she said, tracing it with her finger, “or at least cover it up.”
Harry nodded. He had long since learned that disagreeing with this remark caused long arguments, which was something he didn’t think he could handle right now. He watched as she stretched her arms wide and yawned, kissed him on the cheek (his heart felt like it was being jabbed with a knife), and walked upstairs to their bedroom.
Harry sat down again, feeling worse than he had in many years. Why did he have to be reminded of Ginny now? Because now that he had seen that picture, all the emotions that he had been ignoring and pushing away for so many years were finally coming back. Why couldn’t he tell Sara about what he was? He had felt comfortable telling Ginny anything. Why did he hate Sara so much for not liking his scar? Ginny had understood what it meant; not just to everyone else, but the deeper meaning, the more intimate meaning. She couldn’t have imagined Harry without it. Why did it hurt so much when Sara had to ask him what he wanted for a present, or even just dinner? Because Ginny had understood him so completely, and he her, that it had felt like they were one person; each of them had known the other more than themselves.
And why did he feel like he was being tortured every time Sara kissed him? Because he still loved Ginny. He had known this for a long time now, but tonight he was finally accepting it. He could never love someone else, when there was even the slightest possibly that Ginny was still out there.
She had been gone eight years now. Where, Harry did not know. But from tomorrow, he would not rest until he found out.
***
A cloaked figure moved quickly through the London streets, soaked to the skin and freezing cold. She was going to find him if it took her all night, and no little thunderstorm was going to stop her. Okay, not so little, she thought as she ducked, narrowly missing a branch that went flying past her ear.
She went into a bus shelter and took two scraps of paper out of the pocket of her cloak, and read them once more; though she had read them so many times already it felt like they was burned into her skull.
Ginny,
I know we cannot be together now, because I could
Not put you in danger, but
No matter what happens to me,
You know I will never stop loving you
This one was from Harry after he had left Hogwarts in his search for the Horcruxes; he had slid it under her bedroom door at the burrow before he left. After this, she had not seen him or Ron and Hermione for two years.
Love is....
What makes the ocean reach for the shore
Whatever it is that makes me want more
What makes the stars sparkle at night
What makes my knees weak at your sight
What makes us do the things that we do
What I will always feel for you
This one had been given to her by her mother, and after she had read it, everything had gone black, and she heard a voice in her ear, “Guess who?” She had squealed loudly and turned around to find Harry standing behind her; looking more handsome than ever, though with a large scratch across his face still dripping blood. He kissed her, then told her that they had finally destroyed the last Horcrux.
After that he had disappeared again. He had killed Voldemort, and become the most renowned wizard in the world. There were month-long celebrations, and Harry had come home. But then she had been kidnapped by Lucius Malfoy.
Again, she felt a horrible ache in her heart. Why had he never tried to find her? What if something had happened to him? What if he was…..no, don’t even think about it.
She walked out of the bus shelter, and was once again drenched in the pouring rain. Pulling her cloak tighter around her, she looked up at the house in front of her, and to her surprise, found exactly what she had been looking for. She walked up the front steps, and with only a moment’s hesitation, knocked on the front door.
***
Harry looked up quickly. Who could be here at this time of night, in this horrible weather? He put the picture of Ginny in his pocket and went to the door, peering curiously through the window as he passed it. He opened the door a fraction, and seeing the drenched figure in a cloak, he decided against letting them in without a name.
“Hello?”
“I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I was wondering whether someone by the name of Harry Potter still lived here,” said a female voice, slightly distorted by the rain pummelling the pavement outside.
“Yes, I still live here. Who is this?”
“An old friend, Harry.”
“Can you answer a couple of questions for me?” he hadn’t used security questions since Voldemort had been powerful, but he didn’t think it was such a good idea to let a nameless cloaked stranger into his house.
“Sure. Just make it quick, I’m freezing.”
“What form does my Patronus take?” he said, putting his easiest security question first.
“A stag.”
“Who are Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs?”
“The Marauders. Their real names are Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, your godfather, and James Potter, your father. I believe you still have a map of Hogwarts that they made.”
Harry was taken aback by this person’s knowledge of him. “Who was my first crush?” he said timidly, for this information was highly personal, and hard for him to talk about.
“I’m not quite sure, as you never actually told me, but your first kiss was in fifth year, with Cho Chang, that cow who turned out to be using you.”
He opened the door. The soaked figure stepped inside, pulled out her wand and began to dry her cloak and robes. While she did this, Harry took out the photo again, studying the face he would probably never see again. Before he could put it back in his pocket, however, the woman reached into her bag and pulled out two scraps of paper, which she put in his hand next to the picture. The words on the paper looked familiar.
“Where did you get these?”
“Someone gave them to me.”
Harry could feel the anger and confusion burning from within him. He tried to calm himself so the fury would not be heard in his voice, but when he spoke, his words had a harsh, steely edge.
“Who are you.” It wasn’t a question this time; it was more like an order. The anger in his voice seemed to startle the woman though, for she stepped back from him.
And as if in answer to his question, the woman reached down and pulled off her cloak, revealing who was underneath, her brilliant hair shining and her ice-blue eyes sparkling like diamonds.
It was Ginny.
That’s it until next time. Luv you all
chlo xoxoxoxoxoxo