In A Dark, Dark Place
Author: Fionnabhair
Title: In A Dark, Dark Place
Challenge: Journey to the Underworld in Book 6 of The Aeneid, At-Hogwarts
Summary: There is something between life and death
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama, Angst
In A Dark, Dark Place
Ginny lost track of whether she’d opened her eyes or not, and for a moment she had to bite down, hard, on her lower lip to keep back a wave of panic. Her finely honed sense of danger told her that screaming like a banshee wouldn’t help matters and so, slowly, she began to pat herself down. She was taking care to make as little noise as possible and so it took her nearly ten minutes - she thought - to find her wand, tucked into her school tights. It took even longer to get her wand in her hand, but it was worth the effort. She was still in a dark, silent place, with no idea of where she was, or how she got there, but…
This train of thought wasn’t comforting at all, and Ginny decided to concentrate on something more cheering, specifically her most recent memories. She’d hidden from Filch in the Room of Requirement, and then…it was hard to be certain - her thoughts were skittish and her head was sore - but she thought she remembered a fire…a knife, no, a sword, and then…
Ginny swore copiously under her breath. She knew something like this was going to happen. She’d been kidnapped, or something…presumably to be used as bait for Harry. The moment he’d broken up with her an ominous weight had slammed into her shoulders, and she’d known, known in the way she knew the difference between up and down, that this was going to happen. She’d told him - she’d told him several times, but would he listen? Now here she was, stuck, like she’d always known she would be.
It didn’t make her any less angry about…whatever it was that had happened, but at least she had a strategy. Admittedly that strategy consisted of sending a Patronus to Bill right this second, but…it was something approaching a plan.
Taking a deep breath, Ginny lifted her wand and opened her mouth, ready to yell ‘Expecto Patronum’ as loudly as possible.
But nothing, well almost nothing, came out. Her voice was reduced to a thin whisper, a tiny rasp in the back of her throat, and Ginny rolled her eyes at this latest setback. Not having a voice was problematic, but not life threatening and all told she was more concerned by the fact that her wand had done nothing, had had no response to her whispered spell. At the very least she would have expected a little white mist, or a few sparks. Ginny took a deep breath, and was about to try again, when a hand grasped her wrist.
Before she had time to think of screaming the air around her had grown light, and for the first time in several minutes she could see. She was somewhere grey, and misty, and she could see only a few feet in front of her. The woman holding her hand was pale, her skin translucent and her hair thin and white. She wore a few scraps of some material that might once have had a colour, and her eyes had been leached of all pigment.
She seemed to have great difficulty focusing on Ginny’s face, and she spoke slowly. “You…have come.” She said, her voice as thin as Ginny’s own.
“No,” Ginny said. “I didn’t come here, I…I don’t know how I got here. Who are you?”
“Well then… You are not here.” The old woman said, gazing off into the distance.
“What? What does that mean? Who are you?”
For a moment the woman’s voice sounded youthful, almost musical. “I have different names,” she said. “Some call me Elissa, and then some call me...something else.”
“Well then,” Ginny said, wrenching her wrist from Elissa’s grasp, “What is this place?”
Elissa did not answer immediately - she lifted a finger to touch Ginny’s face, and sighed. “It is across the river,” she said. “You have come across the river, though…you should not. You are not here, not yet.”
“What river?” Ginny said, beginning to feel impatient, not to mention cold. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”
Elissa held up a hand, almost regally, and said, “You have come for him. You must send him back. Send him back.”
“Okay,” Ginny said, finally giving in to her impatience and lifting her wand, “I want you to know, I don’t like this, especially as you’re a Muggle and…but tell me what I’m doing here - and an actual answer, none of this river nonsense.”
Elissa looked at her sternly and said, “I have been here for centuries, girl. I am the guide. You cannot hurt me - but you may hurt him, if you do not listen.”
“Him?” Ginny said, with a horrible feeling that she knew where this was going.
“Him. He lingers - he cannot remember whether he should cross the river or not. You must send him back.”
A chill crawled down Ginny’s neck, and she lifted her chin. “Harry,” she said, “It’s Harry you’re talking about, but…how?”
Elissa shrugged, an oddly elegant movement for such an old woman. “I know nothing of how,” she said. “He has touched…death has come near him, near but not…that is why he lingers. Call him to you.”
For some reason, Ginny believed her, and as instructed she yelled Harry’s name. Yelling though, was extremely difficult, and the longer she continued, the more pain. By the time she began to see a shape emerging out of the shadows she felt as though she was bleeding on the inside of her throat.
Elissa put a hand on her shoulder as Harry finally reached him. His eyes widened at the sight of Ginny, and he reached his arms out to hug her, but Elissa held her back. Ginny didn’t know what power was in those fingers, but she was suddenly rooted to the spot.
“Ginny?” he said. His face was pale, the skin pulled so tight that the veins in his neck seemed to stand out, and he was soaked to the skin.
She tried to say his name, but could barely manage a croak. Steeling herself, she tried again, but the pain was too great - within moments tears were streaming down her cheeks.
Harry looked concerned, and reached out a hand to touch her, but she pulled away. Ginny could not have told later why she did, but some instinct, some incomprehensible feeling of wrongness told her that they must not touch.
Elissa’s hand tightened on her shoulder, and Harry narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing to her?”
Ginny shook her head at him - now was not the time for him to start acting like an overprotective boyfriend - and Elissa said, “You must leave.”
“No,” he said, taking out his wand, “Not without Ginny.”
“You cannot take her, boy.”
Harry looked Elissa dead in the eye. “You’re not keeping her,” he said. “Ginny, come on.”
She couldn’t move - which was frankly pathetic - and she couldn’t speak, only weep. Harry looked as though she was causing him actual, physical pain, and he tried again, “Ginny,” he said, “Don’t be angry at me - I know we…fought, but…please.”
She nodded at him, and tried to reach out a hand, to touch him, to let him know that she wasn’t angry, that she still cared about him, even in this strange place…
But Elissa must have sensed what she was about to do, for before their hands could even touch, Ginny was slipping away, her mind shutting down as though she was on the cusp of sleep. Elissa’s voice was all that could break through, and even that was loosing its power. “If you want to see her again, boy, go back. You’ll not find her here.”
* * *
Ginny wasn’t sure how long she slept - but it was a heavy sleep, so heavy that when she woke she felt initially as though there was a lead weight dragging her eyes down. All that changed though, when she realized that she was no longer in the Room of Requirement - she was in the Hospital Wing, and her hands and lower arms had been bandaged.
As she looked at the bed across from hers, she could hear Madam Pomfrey telling someone, “It’s some kind of enchanted sleep, brought on by…exposure to dark magic. Those two have been very tight-lipped about the cause of it altogether.”
Harry was lying in the next bed, deep asleep. His glasses were sitting, broken, on the bedside table, and his hair was soaking wet, and there was a long cut down one of his cheeks.
Struggling with her bandaged hands, Ginny stood up and walked to his bed. Knowing what she had to do, she ignored Madam Pomfrey’s calls, and bent over Harry, cupping her face in his hands. Taking care not to jar his cut, she kissed him, letting him breathe her breath for one beautiful moment.
When she pulled back, his eyes were open.
Title: In A Dark, Dark Place
Challenge: Journey to the Underworld in Book 6 of The Aeneid, At-Hogwarts
Summary: There is something between life and death
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama, Angst
In A Dark, Dark Place
Ginny lost track of whether she’d opened her eyes or not, and for a moment she had to bite down, hard, on her lower lip to keep back a wave of panic. Her finely honed sense of danger told her that screaming like a banshee wouldn’t help matters and so, slowly, she began to pat herself down. She was taking care to make as little noise as possible and so it took her nearly ten minutes - she thought - to find her wand, tucked into her school tights. It took even longer to get her wand in her hand, but it was worth the effort. She was still in a dark, silent place, with no idea of where she was, or how she got there, but…
This train of thought wasn’t comforting at all, and Ginny decided to concentrate on something more cheering, specifically her most recent memories. She’d hidden from Filch in the Room of Requirement, and then…it was hard to be certain - her thoughts were skittish and her head was sore - but she thought she remembered a fire…a knife, no, a sword, and then…
Ginny swore copiously under her breath. She knew something like this was going to happen. She’d been kidnapped, or something…presumably to be used as bait for Harry. The moment he’d broken up with her an ominous weight had slammed into her shoulders, and she’d known, known in the way she knew the difference between up and down, that this was going to happen. She’d told him - she’d told him several times, but would he listen? Now here she was, stuck, like she’d always known she would be.
It didn’t make her any less angry about…whatever it was that had happened, but at least she had a strategy. Admittedly that strategy consisted of sending a Patronus to Bill right this second, but…it was something approaching a plan.
Taking a deep breath, Ginny lifted her wand and opened her mouth, ready to yell ‘Expecto Patronum’ as loudly as possible.
But nothing, well almost nothing, came out. Her voice was reduced to a thin whisper, a tiny rasp in the back of her throat, and Ginny rolled her eyes at this latest setback. Not having a voice was problematic, but not life threatening and all told she was more concerned by the fact that her wand had done nothing, had had no response to her whispered spell. At the very least she would have expected a little white mist, or a few sparks. Ginny took a deep breath, and was about to try again, when a hand grasped her wrist.
Before she had time to think of screaming the air around her had grown light, and for the first time in several minutes she could see. She was somewhere grey, and misty, and she could see only a few feet in front of her. The woman holding her hand was pale, her skin translucent and her hair thin and white. She wore a few scraps of some material that might once have had a colour, and her eyes had been leached of all pigment.
She seemed to have great difficulty focusing on Ginny’s face, and she spoke slowly. “You…have come.” She said, her voice as thin as Ginny’s own.
“No,” Ginny said. “I didn’t come here, I…I don’t know how I got here. Who are you?”
“Well then… You are not here.” The old woman said, gazing off into the distance.
“What? What does that mean? Who are you?”
For a moment the woman’s voice sounded youthful, almost musical. “I have different names,” she said. “Some call me Elissa, and then some call me...something else.”
“Well then,” Ginny said, wrenching her wrist from Elissa’s grasp, “What is this place?”
Elissa did not answer immediately - she lifted a finger to touch Ginny’s face, and sighed. “It is across the river,” she said. “You have come across the river, though…you should not. You are not here, not yet.”
“What river?” Ginny said, beginning to feel impatient, not to mention cold. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”
Elissa held up a hand, almost regally, and said, “You have come for him. You must send him back. Send him back.”
“Okay,” Ginny said, finally giving in to her impatience and lifting her wand, “I want you to know, I don’t like this, especially as you’re a Muggle and…but tell me what I’m doing here - and an actual answer, none of this river nonsense.”
Elissa looked at her sternly and said, “I have been here for centuries, girl. I am the guide. You cannot hurt me - but you may hurt him, if you do not listen.”
“Him?” Ginny said, with a horrible feeling that she knew where this was going.
“Him. He lingers - he cannot remember whether he should cross the river or not. You must send him back.”
A chill crawled down Ginny’s neck, and she lifted her chin. “Harry,” she said, “It’s Harry you’re talking about, but…how?”
Elissa shrugged, an oddly elegant movement for such an old woman. “I know nothing of how,” she said. “He has touched…death has come near him, near but not…that is why he lingers. Call him to you.”
For some reason, Ginny believed her, and as instructed she yelled Harry’s name. Yelling though, was extremely difficult, and the longer she continued, the more pain. By the time she began to see a shape emerging out of the shadows she felt as though she was bleeding on the inside of her throat.
Elissa put a hand on her shoulder as Harry finally reached him. His eyes widened at the sight of Ginny, and he reached his arms out to hug her, but Elissa held her back. Ginny didn’t know what power was in those fingers, but she was suddenly rooted to the spot.
“Ginny?” he said. His face was pale, the skin pulled so tight that the veins in his neck seemed to stand out, and he was soaked to the skin.
She tried to say his name, but could barely manage a croak. Steeling herself, she tried again, but the pain was too great - within moments tears were streaming down her cheeks.
Harry looked concerned, and reached out a hand to touch her, but she pulled away. Ginny could not have told later why she did, but some instinct, some incomprehensible feeling of wrongness told her that they must not touch.
Elissa’s hand tightened on her shoulder, and Harry narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing to her?”
Ginny shook her head at him - now was not the time for him to start acting like an overprotective boyfriend - and Elissa said, “You must leave.”
“No,” he said, taking out his wand, “Not without Ginny.”
“You cannot take her, boy.”
Harry looked Elissa dead in the eye. “You’re not keeping her,” he said. “Ginny, come on.”
She couldn’t move - which was frankly pathetic - and she couldn’t speak, only weep. Harry looked as though she was causing him actual, physical pain, and he tried again, “Ginny,” he said, “Don’t be angry at me - I know we…fought, but…please.”
She nodded at him, and tried to reach out a hand, to touch him, to let him know that she wasn’t angry, that she still cared about him, even in this strange place…
But Elissa must have sensed what she was about to do, for before their hands could even touch, Ginny was slipping away, her mind shutting down as though she was on the cusp of sleep. Elissa’s voice was all that could break through, and even that was loosing its power. “If you want to see her again, boy, go back. You’ll not find her here.”
* * *
Ginny wasn’t sure how long she slept - but it was a heavy sleep, so heavy that when she woke she felt initially as though there was a lead weight dragging her eyes down. All that changed though, when she realized that she was no longer in the Room of Requirement - she was in the Hospital Wing, and her hands and lower arms had been bandaged.
As she looked at the bed across from hers, she could hear Madam Pomfrey telling someone, “It’s some kind of enchanted sleep, brought on by…exposure to dark magic. Those two have been very tight-lipped about the cause of it altogether.”
Harry was lying in the next bed, deep asleep. His glasses were sitting, broken, on the bedside table, and his hair was soaking wet, and there was a long cut down one of his cheeks.
Struggling with her bandaged hands, Ginny stood up and walked to his bed. Knowing what she had to do, she ignored Madam Pomfrey’s calls, and bent over Harry, cupping her face in his hands. Taking care not to jar his cut, she kissed him, letting him breathe her breath for one beautiful moment.
When she pulled back, his eyes were open.