Waking Harry (HP)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing(s): Harry/Ginny
Rating: PG-13 for sexual references
Word Count: 1052
Notes: Shamelessly sappy, and the dream within a dream idea is stolen from the movie Waking Life.
Written for wildmagelet in the H/G fic exchange Changing Seasons.
In the months after the war, Harry couldn’t bear to let Ginny out of his sight.
At first it was fun. Exciting, desperate. Each night making love like they wouldn’t be able to tomorrow, except that of course they would be. All the emotions he had felt during the year he had spent searching for the horcruxes hadn’t gone away yet. They lingered in his memory and the nights he had spent staring at Ginny’s dot on the Marauder’s Map felt all too close.
Harry started calling her his ‘little ball of fire’ because that’s what she was. Pure passion, pure emotion. Pure love. Everything was perfect, more sublime than it had been in Harry’s most desperate dreams.
Until one day, Ginny left him.
He sleepily opened his eyes to see Ginny’s behind poking out of her closet (and a very fine behind it was too, he thought).
‘Ginny, love, come back to bed. It’s far too early to be doing…what are you doing?’
Ginny straightened and turned to face him. She had a suitcase in one hand. ‘I’m leaving you Harry,’ she sighed.
‘What?!’ Harry exclaimed.
Without a word Ginny got up and opened the window, letting in the crisp autumn air. She put he feet carefully on the ledge and jumped, leaving one stray orange leaf floating in the window as compensation. Harry let out a strangled cry--
And then he woke up.
Harry anxiously patted his hand around the bed, searching for Ginny’s sleeping form.
‘Ow! You wanker, what did you do that for?’
‘Oops,’ said Harry sheepishly. ‘Go back to sleep, love, it’s alright,’ said in what he hoped was a soothing tone.
‘Hmph,’ said Ginny as she went back to sleep.
-
The next time it happened he was sure he was awake.
The dreams started getting more frequent. One particularly memorable time they were in the middle of making love. It was just after Christmas, and everything was perfect. There was a roaring fire next to them and some discarded cocoa mugs on the table in the corner--Harry had to credit the amount of effort his subconscious put into details--and Ginny was arching her back and everything was just right when suddenly she disappeared. Used to it by now, he finished himself off and went to sleep. Or did he wake up? He could never tell anymore.
-
The next dream was hard to ignore. Harry went to see Ginny’s first Quidditch practice. He persuaded security to let him through just so he could surprise her with a big bunch of flowers--daisies, her favourites--and he was just about to announce himself when a man he didn’t recognise flew onto the field and launched himself at Ginny.
‘Oi!’ Harry screamed, ‘get off her! What are you doing?’
The man next to him gave Harry a strange look, ‘what’s wrong with you, then?’ he asked.
‘That man,’ Harry spluttered, ‘he’s attacking her,’ he said indignantly.
The man chuckled, ‘looks to me like she’s fine with it,’ he said.
Harry went limp. The bouquet he’d brought dropped to the bottom of the pitch, forgotten. Pairs of feet trampled it into the snow.
Then he woke up. Or, at least, he thought he did. He never knew anymore if he was waking up in a dream or waking up in the reality he didn’t properly understand anymore.
-
In the last dream, his mother appeared. She was Ginny at first (which suggested Oedipal issues he didn’t even want to start to think about), but the more he studied her as Ginny, the more he realised that she was all wrong.
He first saw her from far away. Well-versed in the dreams and their rules now, he didn’t try to approach her, he just decided to watch her. If he couldn’t hold her, couldn’t love her from up close like he wanted to, like she deserved, he would do it from afar. Life without Ginny was not an option, so he would take his doses any way he could.
He started examining her. The first thing he noticed was that her hair was too light in its shade, and too long. The more he peered at her, the more wrong it felt. This was not his Ginny. Suddenly afraid, he started to back up slowly, then to run away.
Like something from a bad horror film, she appeared directly in front of him, despite his desperate sprinting in the opposite direction. He stopped short, gasping for breath and asked, ‘why…?’
‘My son,’ Lily smiled, and Harry kicked himself. Of course it wasn’t his Ginny, when had the dreams ever led him to joy?
Lily seemed to sense his question, his anger and frustration and said, ‘it is you who is not letting yourself to achieve the peace you long for. Why can you not accept that you are as deserving as anyone to have a bright and happy future?’
‘Because,’ he faltered, ‘because I don’t deserve her. Look at her, she’s perfect. And look at me! The things I’ve done… they have a tint of darkness. I can never be as good a man…I’m afraid I can never be as good as she deserves.’
‘Bullocks,’ said Lily, and Harry almost fell over in surprise.
‘Ginny loves you, and you love her. You two achieve a purity, a bond that is not easily broken. Her love exceeds even mine which kept you alive for so long. You were unlucky for many years, my poor son. But now you are fortunate enough to have something that most people never find, though they spend their entire lives searching. Trust in it. Hang on to it, but not too tightly or it will break. Wake up every day content in the knowledge that you love each other, never forget it and you will prosper. It is what you deserve.’
-
He awoke abruptly. It was spring and he was under a tree whose blossoms were floating down gently in the breeze. Ginny turned to look at him, and suddenly he knew. She was more real than she had been in any dream, more beautiful and inexplicably more his than in any dream. She smiled and reached out for a kiss, and he knew. This was reality, and Ginny was his bright, happy future.
He didn't have the dreams again.
Pairing(s): Harry/Ginny
Rating: PG-13 for sexual references
Word Count: 1052
Notes: Shamelessly sappy, and the dream within a dream idea is stolen from the movie Waking Life.
Written for wildmagelet in the H/G fic exchange Changing Seasons.
In the months after the war, Harry couldn’t bear to let Ginny out of his sight.
At first it was fun. Exciting, desperate. Each night making love like they wouldn’t be able to tomorrow, except that of course they would be. All the emotions he had felt during the year he had spent searching for the horcruxes hadn’t gone away yet. They lingered in his memory and the nights he had spent staring at Ginny’s dot on the Marauder’s Map felt all too close.
Harry started calling her his ‘little ball of fire’ because that’s what she was. Pure passion, pure emotion. Pure love. Everything was perfect, more sublime than it had been in Harry’s most desperate dreams.
Until one day, Ginny left him.
He sleepily opened his eyes to see Ginny’s behind poking out of her closet (and a very fine behind it was too, he thought).
‘Ginny, love, come back to bed. It’s far too early to be doing…what are you doing?’
Ginny straightened and turned to face him. She had a suitcase in one hand. ‘I’m leaving you Harry,’ she sighed.
‘What?!’ Harry exclaimed.
Without a word Ginny got up and opened the window, letting in the crisp autumn air. She put he feet carefully on the ledge and jumped, leaving one stray orange leaf floating in the window as compensation. Harry let out a strangled cry--
And then he woke up.
Harry anxiously patted his hand around the bed, searching for Ginny’s sleeping form.
‘Ow! You wanker, what did you do that for?’
‘Oops,’ said Harry sheepishly. ‘Go back to sleep, love, it’s alright,’ said in what he hoped was a soothing tone.
‘Hmph,’ said Ginny as she went back to sleep.
-
The next time it happened he was sure he was awake.
The dreams started getting more frequent. One particularly memorable time they were in the middle of making love. It was just after Christmas, and everything was perfect. There was a roaring fire next to them and some discarded cocoa mugs on the table in the corner--Harry had to credit the amount of effort his subconscious put into details--and Ginny was arching her back and everything was just right when suddenly she disappeared. Used to it by now, he finished himself off and went to sleep. Or did he wake up? He could never tell anymore.
-
The next dream was hard to ignore. Harry went to see Ginny’s first Quidditch practice. He persuaded security to let him through just so he could surprise her with a big bunch of flowers--daisies, her favourites--and he was just about to announce himself when a man he didn’t recognise flew onto the field and launched himself at Ginny.
‘Oi!’ Harry screamed, ‘get off her! What are you doing?’
The man next to him gave Harry a strange look, ‘what’s wrong with you, then?’ he asked.
‘That man,’ Harry spluttered, ‘he’s attacking her,’ he said indignantly.
The man chuckled, ‘looks to me like she’s fine with it,’ he said.
Harry went limp. The bouquet he’d brought dropped to the bottom of the pitch, forgotten. Pairs of feet trampled it into the snow.
Then he woke up. Or, at least, he thought he did. He never knew anymore if he was waking up in a dream or waking up in the reality he didn’t properly understand anymore.
-
In the last dream, his mother appeared. She was Ginny at first (which suggested Oedipal issues he didn’t even want to start to think about), but the more he studied her as Ginny, the more he realised that she was all wrong.
He first saw her from far away. Well-versed in the dreams and their rules now, he didn’t try to approach her, he just decided to watch her. If he couldn’t hold her, couldn’t love her from up close like he wanted to, like she deserved, he would do it from afar. Life without Ginny was not an option, so he would take his doses any way he could.
He started examining her. The first thing he noticed was that her hair was too light in its shade, and too long. The more he peered at her, the more wrong it felt. This was not his Ginny. Suddenly afraid, he started to back up slowly, then to run away.
Like something from a bad horror film, she appeared directly in front of him, despite his desperate sprinting in the opposite direction. He stopped short, gasping for breath and asked, ‘why…?’
‘My son,’ Lily smiled, and Harry kicked himself. Of course it wasn’t his Ginny, when had the dreams ever led him to joy?
Lily seemed to sense his question, his anger and frustration and said, ‘it is you who is not letting yourself to achieve the peace you long for. Why can you not accept that you are as deserving as anyone to have a bright and happy future?’
‘Because,’ he faltered, ‘because I don’t deserve her. Look at her, she’s perfect. And look at me! The things I’ve done… they have a tint of darkness. I can never be as good a man…I’m afraid I can never be as good as she deserves.’
‘Bullocks,’ said Lily, and Harry almost fell over in surprise.
‘Ginny loves you, and you love her. You two achieve a purity, a bond that is not easily broken. Her love exceeds even mine which kept you alive for so long. You were unlucky for many years, my poor son. But now you are fortunate enough to have something that most people never find, though they spend their entire lives searching. Trust in it. Hang on to it, but not too tightly or it will break. Wake up every day content in the knowledge that you love each other, never forget it and you will prosper. It is what you deserve.’
-
He awoke abruptly. It was spring and he was under a tree whose blossoms were floating down gently in the breeze. Ginny turned to look at him, and suddenly he knew. She was more real than she had been in any dream, more beautiful and inexplicably more his than in any dream. She smiled and reached out for a kiss, and he knew. This was reality, and Ginny was his bright, happy future.
He didn't have the dreams again.