Fic: Ginny/Luna/Neville
So .... since the films never really satisfy and let's face it, after embracing fandom, JK herself doesn't really satisfy... I am pimping this: my own Ginny story, the first of it's kind :D
Written for the commentficathon, but brought here so that I can keep it close.
At the Close: A Harry Potter Wars Comment Ficathon
One Embrace: Set during the war
Disclaimer: Characters belong to JK Rowling, this is just an expression of how much I love them.
Ginny sits silently on the hammock that has become her retreat in these days.
These days of long, fearful silences. These weeks and months of pretending to be His better half. Of proving to the students left that she held even a small part of the power that made them, to the audience that always watches Him, a "power couple" ... that she knew He was alright and the war wasn't lost, even though it feels more lost and He feels more lost to her every day, hiding her shaking knees under her robes and her palms are always moist from fear and she feels even more like that shy eleven year old girl so easily taken in by the facade.
She wonders now, more than ever, how different her circumstances really are now- writing daily to a boy that won't... that can't respond - than they were when her tears and fears were soothed by a leech.
Both then and now she felt her strength pouring into something, someone else. Now she knows, at least. Now she knows the cost and knows the risk, knows the greater goal and is willing to sacrifice part of her heart for something beyond even Him. Now she is even more terrified but finds no comfort in the act of writing, the act of hourly silent resistance. Now no words return to her, no one is listening, and no one can know how much she is afraid that ... that even when He wins this war, there will be no comfort in his arms.
Not the comfort that she so desperately needs.
She glances toward the figure cowering before the fireplace. Luna returned earlier that week, ironically seeking the safety Ginny has created in the bowels of Hogwarts. With her she brings fanciful stories of Him.
Of Them. The Three, which has tried and failed to be five. Which Ginny fears can never be a comfortable Four. That Trio that revolves around loyalty, honor, jealousy, and a love that Ginny constantly seeks to get a small piece of... just a small piece...
She's never been able to demand the things she needs from those she loves.
Above her Neville snores softly. Together, yet always alone, they have kept each other strong in the eyes of the others. Hurried, frantic caresses in hidden, cramped spaces have relieved only a fraction of their shared fear and anxiety. In her arms, Neville gets a small piece of Him that was lost the night Bellatrix was sent for his parents. In his arms, Ginny is able for a moment to forget the present, to retreat into her body, feeling and giving pure, fumbling physical pleasure instead of projecting the power and security she is sure she has lost. And at times she guiltily wishes it had been Neville and not Him, so that He could be with her instead. In these moments she pulls him to her harder, trying to forgive herself for these dark thoughts.
But Neville's embrace is never enough and his guilty eyes following her through the day makes her wish she could run, escape, leave both of them behind. Leave the whole world and war behind. Hermione had taught her enough that summer to blend into the Muggle world... she could run... she could run... Run from these two tall, soft-eyed boys that could never give her the comfort she longed for.
No, these boys merely filled her with a sizeable ache that stretched beyond....
Ginny sighs and stands up slowly, stretching out her cramped legs, wrapping her arms around her body to keep the tears from shaking out of her. She wasn't going to get much sleep that night, not that she slept much anyway. She makes her way silently to the silver figure before the fireplace.
Luna looks up at her approach and smiles her long, slow, full smile.
"Did you want to talk about Harry?"
Ginny sits down beside her, curling her legs under her body, making herself as small as possible while shaking her head fiercely. And so they sit in silence, Ginny watching the flames in the fireplace dance wildly about.
No, she didn't want to talk about Him. Everyone always wanted to, wanted her to. Pushed her to say His name as if he were in the next room and would come in smiling, his arm around her brother's shoulder any moment, laughing and chattering as they always did. But she couldn't stand the sound of it now.
A whisper in the dark, like all the names of people lost in the war, it filled her with dread.
Luna reached up and tucks Ginny's long hair behind her ear and whispers, "Everyone's asleep..."
Ginny turned her cheek into the smooth hand and at the soft caress that responds to her slight movement, tears began to trickle down her cheeks. Luna was suddenly there, holding her close as her body shook with sobs she had kept in for so long, the tears she had had to keep hidden from everyone, especially Neville's sad eyes. In Luna's soft embrace, the tears didn't feel like a weakness to keep hidden, each drop that fell made her feel stronger, more in control than she had in months. She had wanted to cry, to give in to the fear, and now she could.
Ginny reached out, twisting her fingers in Luna's long silky hair as she let the tears fall. And suddently Luna's warm lips were on her own, between them Ginny tasted the salt of their combined tears. Their kisses held within them all the fear and strength that had been hidden behind fear within both girls through this war.
And the ache in Ginny's heart was soothed by the raw need held in Luna's kiss. This was the comfort she had been seeking. This embrace could sustain her for months, this soft sadness that they shared with each shaking breath, with each unbidden tear that salted their shaking lips.
There was no facade between them, the silver girl with tortured bruises scarring her pale skin, the flaming girl with the gaping hole in her heart she struggled so hard to hide from everyone. With Luna's lips upon her skin, Ginny no longer felt the need to hide her inner wound, she let it ride upon her sleeve like a badge of honor.
Later in the hammock, with Luna's legs twisted about her own and her soft breath warming her throat, Ginny let go of her crippling desire to appear strong. In Luna's soft embrace she was reminded that she WAS strong... her strength came from fear - from the love for Him that left her so vulnerable, that left them all so exposed.
Luna wore her vulnerability in the places where all could see, it made her the strongest warrior Ginny had ever known, and as she fell asleep in Luna's arms, she felt the ache in her heart give her the strength she'd need to wake and face another day.
Written for the commentficathon, but brought here so that I can keep it close.
At the Close: A Harry Potter Wars Comment Ficathon
One Embrace: Set during the war
Disclaimer: Characters belong to JK Rowling, this is just an expression of how much I love them.
Ginny sits silently on the hammock that has become her retreat in these days.
These days of long, fearful silences. These weeks and months of pretending to be His better half. Of proving to the students left that she held even a small part of the power that made them, to the audience that always watches Him, a "power couple" ... that she knew He was alright and the war wasn't lost, even though it feels more lost and He feels more lost to her every day, hiding her shaking knees under her robes and her palms are always moist from fear and she feels even more like that shy eleven year old girl so easily taken in by the facade.
She wonders now, more than ever, how different her circumstances really are now- writing daily to a boy that won't... that can't respond - than they were when her tears and fears were soothed by a leech.
Both then and now she felt her strength pouring into something, someone else. Now she knows, at least. Now she knows the cost and knows the risk, knows the greater goal and is willing to sacrifice part of her heart for something beyond even Him. Now she is even more terrified but finds no comfort in the act of writing, the act of hourly silent resistance. Now no words return to her, no one is listening, and no one can know how much she is afraid that ... that even when He wins this war, there will be no comfort in his arms.
Not the comfort that she so desperately needs.
She glances toward the figure cowering before the fireplace. Luna returned earlier that week, ironically seeking the safety Ginny has created in the bowels of Hogwarts. With her she brings fanciful stories of Him.
Of Them. The Three, which has tried and failed to be five. Which Ginny fears can never be a comfortable Four. That Trio that revolves around loyalty, honor, jealousy, and a love that Ginny constantly seeks to get a small piece of... just a small piece...
She's never been able to demand the things she needs from those she loves.
Above her Neville snores softly. Together, yet always alone, they have kept each other strong in the eyes of the others. Hurried, frantic caresses in hidden, cramped spaces have relieved only a fraction of their shared fear and anxiety. In her arms, Neville gets a small piece of Him that was lost the night Bellatrix was sent for his parents. In his arms, Ginny is able for a moment to forget the present, to retreat into her body, feeling and giving pure, fumbling physical pleasure instead of projecting the power and security she is sure she has lost. And at times she guiltily wishes it had been Neville and not Him, so that He could be with her instead. In these moments she pulls him to her harder, trying to forgive herself for these dark thoughts.
But Neville's embrace is never enough and his guilty eyes following her through the day makes her wish she could run, escape, leave both of them behind. Leave the whole world and war behind. Hermione had taught her enough that summer to blend into the Muggle world... she could run... she could run... Run from these two tall, soft-eyed boys that could never give her the comfort she longed for.
No, these boys merely filled her with a sizeable ache that stretched beyond....
Ginny sighs and stands up slowly, stretching out her cramped legs, wrapping her arms around her body to keep the tears from shaking out of her. She wasn't going to get much sleep that night, not that she slept much anyway. She makes her way silently to the silver figure before the fireplace.
Luna looks up at her approach and smiles her long, slow, full smile.
"Did you want to talk about Harry?"
Ginny sits down beside her, curling her legs under her body, making herself as small as possible while shaking her head fiercely. And so they sit in silence, Ginny watching the flames in the fireplace dance wildly about.
No, she didn't want to talk about Him. Everyone always wanted to, wanted her to. Pushed her to say His name as if he were in the next room and would come in smiling, his arm around her brother's shoulder any moment, laughing and chattering as they always did. But she couldn't stand the sound of it now.
A whisper in the dark, like all the names of people lost in the war, it filled her with dread.
Luna reached up and tucks Ginny's long hair behind her ear and whispers, "Everyone's asleep..."
Ginny turned her cheek into the smooth hand and at the soft caress that responds to her slight movement, tears began to trickle down her cheeks. Luna was suddenly there, holding her close as her body shook with sobs she had kept in for so long, the tears she had had to keep hidden from everyone, especially Neville's sad eyes. In Luna's soft embrace, the tears didn't feel like a weakness to keep hidden, each drop that fell made her feel stronger, more in control than she had in months. She had wanted to cry, to give in to the fear, and now she could.
Ginny reached out, twisting her fingers in Luna's long silky hair as she let the tears fall. And suddently Luna's warm lips were on her own, between them Ginny tasted the salt of their combined tears. Their kisses held within them all the fear and strength that had been hidden behind fear within both girls through this war.
And the ache in Ginny's heart was soothed by the raw need held in Luna's kiss. This was the comfort she had been seeking. This embrace could sustain her for months, this soft sadness that they shared with each shaking breath, with each unbidden tear that salted their shaking lips.
There was no facade between them, the silver girl with tortured bruises scarring her pale skin, the flaming girl with the gaping hole in her heart she struggled so hard to hide from everyone. With Luna's lips upon her skin, Ginny no longer felt the need to hide her inner wound, she let it ride upon her sleeve like a badge of honor.
Later in the hammock, with Luna's legs twisted about her own and her soft breath warming her throat, Ginny let go of her crippling desire to appear strong. In Luna's soft embrace she was reminded that she WAS strong... her strength came from fear - from the love for Him that left her so vulnerable, that left them all so exposed.
Luna wore her vulnerability in the places where all could see, it made her the strongest warrior Ginny had ever known, and as she fell asleep in Luna's arms, she felt the ache in her heart give her the strength she'd need to wake and face another day.