"where love is the basis of all things" Ron/Ginny, PG
Title: where love is the basis of all things
Ship: R/Hr, R/G
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~660
Warnings: light/implied incest
Summary: She knows you still have those dreams, where the sky is black and the war doesn't end.
i. war
Ginny is paused near a crumbling wall. The eastward winds turn her hair to thrashing strands of red and her eyes to slits and she is straining to see past the flashes of light. In the field (the deserted field, the breaking castle, the trampled grass once green now red) there is a break in communication: a side of the field is fighting still, but the enemy is fled and blind curses are absorbed by the ground.
"Stop!" She is all flailing arms and rising voice but there is no stopping, the war will keep going if she remains unnoticed.
Ginny climbs, a blur of arms and legs and red red hair, and walls threaten to crumble beneath her as she scales them with ease. She rises into the evening, and there is a broken cry of "Sonorus." Her voice rings out solemnly and echoes across distances she cannot fathom (will not fathom).
"It's over," she states, and it is surreal, the clouds meeting the melting sun. Bodies on the grass looking so helpless that they could be sleeping (she could pretend they are sleeping). And slowly, the fighting stops, the lights don't flash, the evening settles in and the stars blink with a contentedness they had not blinked with before.
You pull yourself up from the ground to see her and don't look down. There is nothing under you that you want to see.
Everything is upwards.
ii. dreams
She knows you still have those dreams, where the sky is black and the war doesn't end--
And she comes to you still half-asleep: words slurred and in the world where dream-logic is the basis of all things (where love is the basis of all things), and she strokes your hair and stills your heart and spends the hours until morning beside you.
Ginny then goes to make breakfast; you hear her if you are waking, and you don't move because she might hear the creaking of your bed and walk up the stairs. See how you're feeling. Offer you tea.
You know she thinks you don't remember her midnight visits, but you do, and in perfect clarity.
All words are remembered, all shapes her lips make (stored carefully to be loved again).
iii. love
Ginny calls you down for breakfast and you stumble down the stairs and into the cramped kitchen (once lively now empty and full of echoes). You find a place at the table, it is only you and her, you can sit anywhere. Ginny sits right across from you, not eating anything, but nursing a cup of tea that expels a constant plume of steam.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she casually asks into her tea, eyes cast downwards and voice low.
"No," you reply, starting on your bacon and pouring yourself a glass of pumpkin juice (but you do want to talk). "I loved her, Ginny. I never even told her, but I loved her, and she didn't know!"
You drop the plastic pitcher of juice and your plate is filled with orange liquid. The spill is ignored, and Ginny puts her teacup down and reaches for the Prophet which is folded neatly on the chair beside her.
"She knew. I swear she did," Ginny's voice is buoyant with its old happiness, the tinkling laughter from a time past (and if it weren't morning the stars would be smiling). "She loved you too, everyone could tell. She died for us, Ron. Harry, too. And I'm not saying I don't miss them, because I do, but isn't it so much better now? There's nothing more we have to be scared of, there's just life now, there's only life and light and love--"
And she smiles at you and everything seems right and time stops and her eyes shine with something that could be love but might just be happiness.
You would like to believe her (would like to follow her to where love is the basis of all things).
fin
Ship: R/Hr, R/G
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~660
Warnings: light/implied incest
Summary: She knows you still have those dreams, where the sky is black and the war doesn't end.
i. war
Ginny is paused near a crumbling wall. The eastward winds turn her hair to thrashing strands of red and her eyes to slits and she is straining to see past the flashes of light. In the field (the deserted field, the breaking castle, the trampled grass once green now red) there is a break in communication: a side of the field is fighting still, but the enemy is fled and blind curses are absorbed by the ground.
"Stop!" She is all flailing arms and rising voice but there is no stopping, the war will keep going if she remains unnoticed.
Ginny climbs, a blur of arms and legs and red red hair, and walls threaten to crumble beneath her as she scales them with ease. She rises into the evening, and there is a broken cry of "Sonorus." Her voice rings out solemnly and echoes across distances she cannot fathom (will not fathom).
"It's over," she states, and it is surreal, the clouds meeting the melting sun. Bodies on the grass looking so helpless that they could be sleeping (she could pretend they are sleeping). And slowly, the fighting stops, the lights don't flash, the evening settles in and the stars blink with a contentedness they had not blinked with before.
You pull yourself up from the ground to see her and don't look down. There is nothing under you that you want to see.
Everything is upwards.
ii. dreams
She knows you still have those dreams, where the sky is black and the war doesn't end--
And she comes to you still half-asleep: words slurred and in the world where dream-logic is the basis of all things (where love is the basis of all things), and she strokes your hair and stills your heart and spends the hours until morning beside you.
Ginny then goes to make breakfast; you hear her if you are waking, and you don't move because she might hear the creaking of your bed and walk up the stairs. See how you're feeling. Offer you tea.
You know she thinks you don't remember her midnight visits, but you do, and in perfect clarity.
All words are remembered, all shapes her lips make (stored carefully to be loved again).
iii. love
Ginny calls you down for breakfast and you stumble down the stairs and into the cramped kitchen (once lively now empty and full of echoes). You find a place at the table, it is only you and her, you can sit anywhere. Ginny sits right across from you, not eating anything, but nursing a cup of tea that expels a constant plume of steam.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she casually asks into her tea, eyes cast downwards and voice low.
"No," you reply, starting on your bacon and pouring yourself a glass of pumpkin juice (but you do want to talk). "I loved her, Ginny. I never even told her, but I loved her, and she didn't know!"
You drop the plastic pitcher of juice and your plate is filled with orange liquid. The spill is ignored, and Ginny puts her teacup down and reaches for the Prophet which is folded neatly on the chair beside her.
"She knew. I swear she did," Ginny's voice is buoyant with its old happiness, the tinkling laughter from a time past (and if it weren't morning the stars would be smiling). "She loved you too, everyone could tell. She died for us, Ron. Harry, too. And I'm not saying I don't miss them, because I do, but isn't it so much better now? There's nothing more we have to be scared of, there's just life now, there's only life and light and love--"
And she smiles at you and everything seems right and time stops and her eyes shine with something that could be love but might just be happiness.
You would like to believe her (would like to follow her to where love is the basis of all things).
fin