The ceiling of a dark, dank cell was dripping muck disgustingly onto a cot in the middle of the room. A girl lay on it, her skin raw and red, her eyes closed and lashes fluttering gently. Dirt covered her cheeks and thick red hair, which fanned out behind her, filthy tendrils spilling over the edge of the cot...
A horrible man with grimy, yellowish nails and teeth stood in the doorway, cackling, blood dribbling down his chin and into his matted gray hair…
The girl looked up…
There was a boy…he stood resolute, his green eyes gleaming, even though there was no light in the room. Behind him stood two shadowy figures the girl on the cot couldn’t see…
The boy was raising a thin wand. Something was approaching form one corner of the room, but the girl couldn’t see it. Light was flying everywhere.
But the green-eyed boy was falling…He was yelling something, his eyes rolling…The shadowy figures were yelling too…And the girl on the cot saw the boy’s green eyes close, his cheek pressed against the grimy floor, his face as pale a ghost against his jet-black hair.
For a moment, the scene seemed to freeze before the girl’s eyes, but then suddenly she could see nothing but a pair of malicious red eyes with snakelike pupils…And she was screaming fit to burst, the world was going black, her whole body was thrashing against her bonds and the black-hired boy was dead.
For the third time that week, Ginny Weasley woke up after a nightmare.
The dreams were always the same, and they plagued her nightly. Everyone seemed to include Harry, dying at the hand of Lord Voldemort or else grievously injured in St. Mungo’s, unable to see Ginny, to hear her, or to speak to her.
Every time, it was the same- Ginny would wake, sweating and shaking, her pajamas twisted hopelessly inside her bed sheets. She had suffered the same nightmares during the war, and this similarity was dragging up all kinds of uncomfortable memories.
She would lie in bed, quivering, until her brain caught up with her imagination and told her that if Harry was dead, she would be the first to know. She would get out of bed, pour herself some water, and head down into the common room to wait by the dying embers of the fire, afraid to go back to sleep. Needless to say, her schoolwork was suffering and she constantly had unattractive bags under her brown eyes.
Today, it was no different. Ginny curled catlike in an armchair and stared blankly into the coals in the fireplace, which were still glowing. She choked back a tear when she remembered that this was the chair that had been Harry’s favorite back in Ginny’s fifth year. She buried her face in it, hoping somehow that it still had a little bit of Harry in the worn red cloth. She wished more than anything that he was with her.
Harry was supposed to be there, at Hogwarts. He was supposed to be teaching students incredible defensive magic and hanging out on the grounds with Ginny and Hermione. Instead, being the stupid noble git he sometimes was, he was off tracking Bellatrix Lestrange, leaving Ginny to stew in the mess that her emotions had become.
She could remember the moment he had told her he was leaving so well…
“Bellatrix Lestrange. She did it. I’m going after her. Tomorrow.”
“Harry, no!” Ginny had screamed.
“Yes,” he had said, a note of finality in his voice. “I have to, Ginny. She’s after me. She killed Sirius. She hurt the people who took me in…they might have hated me like dry rot, but they still kept me. If you expect me to sit around…”
“When will it stop?” she had said, tears stinging her eyelashes, as hard as she had tried to conceal them from Harry. “When can you finally settle down and be normal?!”
For a moment, an odd look had crossed his face. A second later it had vanished, and Ginny was left to wonder whether it had been there at all.
“I don’t know,” he had said. “I wish…but…I don’t know, Ginny.”
“It’s hard for you, Harry,” she’d whispered. “But it doesn’t have to be…”
“Yes, it does,” he’d whispered. “You’d best just pray I don’t loose hope.”
Then he had gone back downstairs.
Ginny had been determined he would never loose hope. She had gone back to her room, sat down at her desk with parchment and quill, and written a very important letter, which she had placed in the bottom of his backpack, underneath all his underwear and several cereal bars…
Ginny wiped a few tears off her cheeks, her eyes burning from the heat of the fire. She must have dozed off, because before she knew it dawn had come.
The pale sunlight sent its thin rays in through the tower window, landing directly on Ginny’s eyes and jerking her awake. The sky was faintly pink, but purplish darkness had not quite receded from the tips of the trees in the forest.
Ginny’s friend Miette was first to come down the stairs that morning. She looked vaguely worried and harassed, and her neatly pinned blonde hair was escaping from her hairpin.
“Ginny! Oh my goodness, I was so worried when you weren’t in your bed this morning. You never get up this early! What’s wrong with you? You’re always tired lately! Why didn’t you get some sleep in the dormitory where other people do? It’d do wonders for your health- not to mention you school work and appearance. You’ve got worse bags under you eyes than…well, someone with bags under their eyes.”
Miette stopped to breathe and Ginny groaned. Miette was Ginny’s best girlfriend in Gryffindor, now that Hermione had left, but Miette was the kind of girl who was constantly excited, constantly breathless with sheer animation. She also had the annoying habit of bounding out of bed, completely and utterly awake every morning.
Miette also couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it. She was too open with her emotions, which was one reason Ginny loved her, but it also meant Miette knew nothing of Ginny’s newfound relationship with Harry. Ginny had wanted to tell with all her heart, but Miette was just too talkative to be trusted with such scandalous information. If anyone were to find out that Ginny was dating a professor…well, someone who was supposed to be a professor, the results would be disastrous.
“Miette, relax. I’m fine. Just had… a bad dream,” Ginny told her, not moving from her comfortable position in the armchair.
“Oh. Did you try thinking of a happy ending for the dream? ‘Cause that’s what I always do, and it works really well. This one time, I had a dream about that time when they had to fight the dragons in the Triwizard Tournament, only I was one of the champions and”“
“Miette, I’m fine, I promise,” Ginny said. “I haven’t tried the happy ending thing yet, though. Maybe later.”
“Okay. We better get down to breakfast before the crowd. I want to get a seat with a clear view all the way to the Ravenclaw table. Jeremy French is so cute!” she said, going immediately into a list of the Ravenclaw boy’s various charms.
Ginny wasn’t really listening. As hard as she tried to think of a happy ending for her dream, there were none. She felt like the dream might be telling her something. Harry was in danger, and she lived every day in fear that he would never come back to her. Somehow she felt the chances of her own happy ending were very slim indeed.
The Hardest Thing by smiley10792
Chapter Notes: I have been a BAD, BAD, BAD author. I am soooooo sorry for the long wait, but the combination of a whole ton of editing, a healthy dose of writer's block plus the addition of a huge ballet performance last weekend meant that this story has been sitting neglected in my infamous folder for quite a while. Again, sorry.
But here it is, better than ever! I have mapped out the rest of the story and have estimated about eight chapters- my longest story yet. However, things could change a billion times between now and the end of this whirlwind journey, but hey, what can you do? Anyway, enjoy!