Finally put pen to paper...
In my goal to write my own fanfic version of Harry Potter, Book 7, I've spent the last 8 months brainstorming, thinking, analysing, and researching, but, until tonight, didn't actually put words on paper. I have a personal problem with writing, i.e. the inability to get myself to do so, but I finally did tonight, on the 3-hour drive home from a weekend spent in San Jose.
This is just a vingette, which will hopefully be incorporated into a longer work later.
Saying Goodbye
Later that night, after his birthday dinner at the Burrow, Harry stole out the back door to escape the pressure of being in the same room with Ginny. He knew he still had to explain to her that Ron, Hermione and he were leaving the next morning. He just didn’t know how to do it, or what to say to her. Harry sat on the porch with his back against the house, watching the near-full moon rise over the trees beyond the Burrow’s gardens, and sighed. He didn’t have much time left, but he just couldn’t find the right words. Frustrated, he took off his glasses and rested his face in his palms.
He heard the squeek of the screen door open then slam shut and saw, out of the corner of his eye, a pair of trainers and denim-clad legs stop beside him then sit down.
“Do you want me to tell her, Harry?” Hermione asked softly. She placed a warm hand on his cotton-covered shoulder. “Maybe it’ll be easier coming from me.”
Harry dropped his hands, shook his head, and surreptitiously wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Still looking at the wood beneath his feet, he said gruffly, “No…no, I have to do it. It’s only right.”
Harry heard an intake of breath and Hermione replied, “Alright. Do you want me to send her out here?”
“No. I should go in and talk to her. It’s late. Never know who might be out there watching us.” With that, Harry stood, dusted off his pants, and offered a hand to Hermione to help her up.
Once inside, Hermione made her way back to the living room where she had left Ron in the middle of a game of chess, but not before pointing up the stairs and saying, “I think she’s in her room. She went up just after you went outside.”
Harry gave Hermione a curt nod, straightened his shoulders in determination, and climbed the stairs briskly, but still only one stair at a time in an attempt to draw out the inevitable.
When he reached the second landing, he found Ginny’s door closed. Knocking, he started to speak, coughed to clear his throat, then said more clearly, “Hey, Ginny, it’s me. Can we talk?”
After a prolonged moment, the door opened slowly and Ginny peaked out. Harry immediately noticed her nose and eyes were red, and hoped she hadn’t been crying but, remembering Cho, doubted he would be so lucky. When she didn’t say anything, Harry asked again, “Hey, Gin, er, can I come in?”
Ginny opened the door farther, just enough to let him through, and Harry stepped in. He quickly took in the girlish decorations, the spare cot he assumed must be for Hermione, and the ginger half-kneazle sitting on the bed looking up at him with an oddly accusatory glare in its eyes.
Harry looked at Ginny and said, attempting to lighten the mood, “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”
Suddenly he was surrounded by warm flannel arms and red hair that smelled faintly of flowers and he realized Ginny was sobbing into his shoulder. Kicking the door closed with his heel, Harry wrapped his arms around Ginny’s all-too feminine frame and buried his face in her hair, holding onto her as if his life depended on it, which at the moment he thought might just be possible.
After what seemed like hours, but what he knew was only a few minutes, Ginny’s sobs subsided. Taking a deep breath she pulled back and, keeping her eyes down, said in a quiet voice, “I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to lay this on you. I’ve been trying not to…”
Harry cut her off by placing a finger over her lips and whispered, “No, Ginny. I’m the one who should be sorry.”
Ginny looked up at him, her big brown eyes suddenly flashing with the Weasley temper. “But Harry…” she began.
Rather than argue, Harry lowered his head to Ginny’s and kissed her, stopping whatever argument she was attempting to start. After a moment of stunned stillness, Ginny’s hands snaked around Harry’s neck, her fingers softly entwining themselves in his hair. The beast within Harry growled in appreciation, the sound vibrating deep in Harry’s chest. As the rest of the world fell away, Harry buried himself deeper into her kisses and tightened his arms around her body.
When the heat that rose within him threatened to overwhelm all rational thought, Harry broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. Taking a deep breath, Harry opened his eyes and found her looking into his. Finding his resolve in her eyes, Harry began, “Ginny, I want to stay with you. I’ve already told you why we can’t be together, but there are other things that you need to know.” Before he could continue, Ginny silently stepped away from him and took his hands in hers.
At Harry’s quizzical look, Ginny explained, “Let’s sit down first.” She smiled wryly and continued, “I get the feeling this is going to be one of those conversations.”
Ginny backed up to her bed pulling Harry with her and sat down, leaning her back against the headboard. When Harry sat down, evicting Crookshanks from the bed but still holding her hands, Ginny prodded his shin with her toe and said, “Go on.”
Almost having lost his train of thought, Harry shook his head to clear it and then continued. “We, Ron, ‘Mione and I, have something we have to do. The prophecy that Voldemort was after at the end of our fifth year stated that I’m the only one…er, the only one who can…” Harry stopped again. Looking into her caring eyes, he cleared his throat, leaned closer to her and said in a whisper almost too quiet for her to hear, “I have to kill him.”
Ginny’s stunned gaze raked over Harry’s face. “You? But why you?” she asked incredulously.
Harry shook his head in dismay, “I…I can’t explain. Just believe me. It’s what Dumbledore told me. Why…why I was having…lessons with him last year.” At the mention of Dumbledore, Harry’s heart gave a squeeze.
Ginny looked down at their joined hands and sighed again. “So what are you going to do?”
Before answering her, Harry leaned his head down to catch her eyes, and when she looked up at him, the corners of his mouth quirked up. “I’d prefer to be looking into your eyes as I explain this. They give me strength.”
Ginny’s own mouth quirked into a shy smile and she dropped her eyes again, but quickly looked back up at him, heeding his request.
“We have to find some…artefacts. But that’s all I can tell you about that,” he said in a rush. “We can’t go back to school next year. We just won’t have the time to do both things at once, and…” he paused at this, knowing what he had to say next was the hardest to say. “And we have to leave in the morning, before your parents get up. It’s the easiest way. If they knew what the three of us were planning, they wouldn’t let us go.” Harry stopped talking, allowing Ginny time to take in all that he had said.
Ginny’s head bobbed for a moment, as if she were nodding to herself, finalizing a decision. “Ok,” she said finally. “How do I help?”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked, confused by her question. Not wanting to hurt her further by being so blunt, but needing to make sure she didn’t think to follow them he said, “We can’t take you with us. You know I want you with me, but I need to know you’re here, safe.”
“I know Harry. I know,” she said with a resigned voice. “I just mean, er, can I help from here? Will there be anything I can do for your quest, anything I can contribute? I know I can’t go, but I can’t stay behind doing nothing,” she explained.
It was Harry’s turn to look away from her eyes, feeling too much at the moment for this brave, wonderful, Gryffindor lioness sitting across from him. Remembering Dumbledore’s admonitions to use his greatest weapon, Harry raised Ginny’s hands to his lips, looked her in the eyes again, and whispered against her soft fingers, “I love you, Ginny.”
For the second time that evening, Harry found himself being engulfed in a fuzzy flannel hug. This time, Ginny was covering his entire face in a flurry of kisses, alternating with mumbled declarations of her own love for him. Surprised that even in his anguish at having to leave Ginny in the morning, Harry could still feel such warmly glowing happiness from being in this young woman’s arms, he laughed out loud. Placing his hands on the sides of her face, Harry stilled her frenetic affections and looked into her eyes. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Please don’t ever forget that.” Now that he’d found the words, he didn’t think he could stop saying them to her.
It wasn’t until much later that Harry, laying in his shirt and jeans over the coverlet of Ginny’s bed, wrapped in Ginny’s flannel-covered arms, that he finally allowed himself to slip into sleep. The next morning, even before the rooster crowed, a soft shake woke Harry from a peaceful dream of a red-haired lioness protecting him from harm. He roused to find Hermione fully clothed, bending over Ginny to reach his shoulder. “It’s time, Harry,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”
Harry sat up, glanced down at Ginny laying beside him, and then smiled at her sleeping form. Hermione turned and left the room, giving him a moment more. He bent down to lay a soft kiss on Ginny’s forehead and pulled away in time to see her eyes flutter open. Mumbling in her half-sleep, Ginny whispered, “I love you, Harry,” and then closed her eyes again. At that, Harry climbed off the bed, taking care not to disturb her further. Stopping at the open door to her room, looked back at her sleeping form again and whispered, “I love you, too,” then left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
This is just a vingette, which will hopefully be incorporated into a longer work later.
Saying Goodbye
Later that night, after his birthday dinner at the Burrow, Harry stole out the back door to escape the pressure of being in the same room with Ginny. He knew he still had to explain to her that Ron, Hermione and he were leaving the next morning. He just didn’t know how to do it, or what to say to her. Harry sat on the porch with his back against the house, watching the near-full moon rise over the trees beyond the Burrow’s gardens, and sighed. He didn’t have much time left, but he just couldn’t find the right words. Frustrated, he took off his glasses and rested his face in his palms.
He heard the squeek of the screen door open then slam shut and saw, out of the corner of his eye, a pair of trainers and denim-clad legs stop beside him then sit down.
“Do you want me to tell her, Harry?” Hermione asked softly. She placed a warm hand on his cotton-covered shoulder. “Maybe it’ll be easier coming from me.”
Harry dropped his hands, shook his head, and surreptitiously wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Still looking at the wood beneath his feet, he said gruffly, “No…no, I have to do it. It’s only right.”
Harry heard an intake of breath and Hermione replied, “Alright. Do you want me to send her out here?”
“No. I should go in and talk to her. It’s late. Never know who might be out there watching us.” With that, Harry stood, dusted off his pants, and offered a hand to Hermione to help her up.
Once inside, Hermione made her way back to the living room where she had left Ron in the middle of a game of chess, but not before pointing up the stairs and saying, “I think she’s in her room. She went up just after you went outside.”
Harry gave Hermione a curt nod, straightened his shoulders in determination, and climbed the stairs briskly, but still only one stair at a time in an attempt to draw out the inevitable.
When he reached the second landing, he found Ginny’s door closed. Knocking, he started to speak, coughed to clear his throat, then said more clearly, “Hey, Ginny, it’s me. Can we talk?”
After a prolonged moment, the door opened slowly and Ginny peaked out. Harry immediately noticed her nose and eyes were red, and hoped she hadn’t been crying but, remembering Cho, doubted he would be so lucky. When she didn’t say anything, Harry asked again, “Hey, Gin, er, can I come in?”
Ginny opened the door farther, just enough to let him through, and Harry stepped in. He quickly took in the girlish decorations, the spare cot he assumed must be for Hermione, and the ginger half-kneazle sitting on the bed looking up at him with an oddly accusatory glare in its eyes.
Harry looked at Ginny and said, attempting to lighten the mood, “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”
Suddenly he was surrounded by warm flannel arms and red hair that smelled faintly of flowers and he realized Ginny was sobbing into his shoulder. Kicking the door closed with his heel, Harry wrapped his arms around Ginny’s all-too feminine frame and buried his face in her hair, holding onto her as if his life depended on it, which at the moment he thought might just be possible.
After what seemed like hours, but what he knew was only a few minutes, Ginny’s sobs subsided. Taking a deep breath she pulled back and, keeping her eyes down, said in a quiet voice, “I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to lay this on you. I’ve been trying not to…”
Harry cut her off by placing a finger over her lips and whispered, “No, Ginny. I’m the one who should be sorry.”
Ginny looked up at him, her big brown eyes suddenly flashing with the Weasley temper. “But Harry…” she began.
Rather than argue, Harry lowered his head to Ginny’s and kissed her, stopping whatever argument she was attempting to start. After a moment of stunned stillness, Ginny’s hands snaked around Harry’s neck, her fingers softly entwining themselves in his hair. The beast within Harry growled in appreciation, the sound vibrating deep in Harry’s chest. As the rest of the world fell away, Harry buried himself deeper into her kisses and tightened his arms around her body.
When the heat that rose within him threatened to overwhelm all rational thought, Harry broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. Taking a deep breath, Harry opened his eyes and found her looking into his. Finding his resolve in her eyes, Harry began, “Ginny, I want to stay with you. I’ve already told you why we can’t be together, but there are other things that you need to know.” Before he could continue, Ginny silently stepped away from him and took his hands in hers.
At Harry’s quizzical look, Ginny explained, “Let’s sit down first.” She smiled wryly and continued, “I get the feeling this is going to be one of those conversations.”
Ginny backed up to her bed pulling Harry with her and sat down, leaning her back against the headboard. When Harry sat down, evicting Crookshanks from the bed but still holding her hands, Ginny prodded his shin with her toe and said, “Go on.”
Almost having lost his train of thought, Harry shook his head to clear it and then continued. “We, Ron, ‘Mione and I, have something we have to do. The prophecy that Voldemort was after at the end of our fifth year stated that I’m the only one…er, the only one who can…” Harry stopped again. Looking into her caring eyes, he cleared his throat, leaned closer to her and said in a whisper almost too quiet for her to hear, “I have to kill him.”
Ginny’s stunned gaze raked over Harry’s face. “You? But why you?” she asked incredulously.
Harry shook his head in dismay, “I…I can’t explain. Just believe me. It’s what Dumbledore told me. Why…why I was having…lessons with him last year.” At the mention of Dumbledore, Harry’s heart gave a squeeze.
Ginny looked down at their joined hands and sighed again. “So what are you going to do?”
Before answering her, Harry leaned his head down to catch her eyes, and when she looked up at him, the corners of his mouth quirked up. “I’d prefer to be looking into your eyes as I explain this. They give me strength.”
Ginny’s own mouth quirked into a shy smile and she dropped her eyes again, but quickly looked back up at him, heeding his request.
“We have to find some…artefacts. But that’s all I can tell you about that,” he said in a rush. “We can’t go back to school next year. We just won’t have the time to do both things at once, and…” he paused at this, knowing what he had to say next was the hardest to say. “And we have to leave in the morning, before your parents get up. It’s the easiest way. If they knew what the three of us were planning, they wouldn’t let us go.” Harry stopped talking, allowing Ginny time to take in all that he had said.
Ginny’s head bobbed for a moment, as if she were nodding to herself, finalizing a decision. “Ok,” she said finally. “How do I help?”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked, confused by her question. Not wanting to hurt her further by being so blunt, but needing to make sure she didn’t think to follow them he said, “We can’t take you with us. You know I want you with me, but I need to know you’re here, safe.”
“I know Harry. I know,” she said with a resigned voice. “I just mean, er, can I help from here? Will there be anything I can do for your quest, anything I can contribute? I know I can’t go, but I can’t stay behind doing nothing,” she explained.
It was Harry’s turn to look away from her eyes, feeling too much at the moment for this brave, wonderful, Gryffindor lioness sitting across from him. Remembering Dumbledore’s admonitions to use his greatest weapon, Harry raised Ginny’s hands to his lips, looked her in the eyes again, and whispered against her soft fingers, “I love you, Ginny.”
For the second time that evening, Harry found himself being engulfed in a fuzzy flannel hug. This time, Ginny was covering his entire face in a flurry of kisses, alternating with mumbled declarations of her own love for him. Surprised that even in his anguish at having to leave Ginny in the morning, Harry could still feel such warmly glowing happiness from being in this young woman’s arms, he laughed out loud. Placing his hands on the sides of her face, Harry stilled her frenetic affections and looked into her eyes. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Please don’t ever forget that.” Now that he’d found the words, he didn’t think he could stop saying them to her.
It wasn’t until much later that Harry, laying in his shirt and jeans over the coverlet of Ginny’s bed, wrapped in Ginny’s flannel-covered arms, that he finally allowed himself to slip into sleep. The next morning, even before the rooster crowed, a soft shake woke Harry from a peaceful dream of a red-haired lioness protecting him from harm. He roused to find Hermione fully clothed, bending over Ginny to reach his shoulder. “It’s time, Harry,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”
Harry sat up, glanced down at Ginny laying beside him, and then smiled at her sleeping form. Hermione turned and left the room, giving him a moment more. He bent down to lay a soft kiss on Ginny’s forehead and pulled away in time to see her eyes flutter open. Mumbling in her half-sleep, Ginny whispered, “I love you, Harry,” and then closed her eyes again. At that, Harry climbed off the bed, taking care not to disturb her further. Stopping at the open door to her room, looked back at her sleeping form again and whispered, “I love you, too,” then left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.