Fic: Sophocles Long Ago (PG, Ginny, Neville, Harry)
Title: Sophocles Long Ago
Author: quietliban
Rating: PG (angst)
Word Count: 1042 words
Summary: Ginny goes to visit Ron, Harry and Hermione at their seaside cottage. They are not who she finds there.
Author's Notes: lyras gave me 'Neville and Ginny (romantic or otherwise). Prompt - the smell of the sea?' and this is what I came up with. It's not very smelly.
The title is taken from a line in Dover Beach, a poem by Matthew Arnold (Year 12 English is never going to leave me).
Sophocles Long Ago
When Ginny arrives with a basket of her mother’s cooking on her arm, and her wand in hand, the cottage is empty. She steps out of the fireplace into an empty room. There is a single dilapidated couch with a blanket strewn across it sitting in the centre of the living room.
The holidays are almost over, and Ginny wishes that Ron would come home. He won’t. Ginny knows this. He, Harry and Hermione insist on staying in this run down cottage by the sea.
Ginny walks through the living room heading into the kitchen in its cracked tile glory. “Ron! Harry! Hermione!” she calls out. “Anyone?” she whispers to the empty house. Loneliness washes through her. She has been left out. She knows she has.
She pretended that it didn’t bother her at first. She pretended that the Break Up hadn’t hurt her. She pretended, because she had thought that what she had with Harry was too good to last, that it was too right to be real.
She had supposed that the Break Up was flattering, in a way, romantic even. Nevertheless, sometimes just before sleep claimed her, other thoughts would tumble through her mind, and anger would bubble up in her belly. That is when she knows that it was a weak excuse. As if she is too precious to him? As if she would be in more danger being in a relationship with him, than she is now?
Ginny is in danger anyway. She is a Weasley, a member of a family known to be sympathetic to Muggles. It’s not as though she wasn’t targeted by Death Eaters before anything ever happened between her and Harry. The Diary wasn’t even because of Harry. It was because of her father.
She sighs as she places the basket down on the kitchen table.
“Ginny?”
She starts when she hears Neville’s voice. She hadn’t expected Neville to be here. He is standing in the doorway, with his wand in one hand, and a look of caution on his face.
“Neville! What are you doing here?”
He shrugs. “Minding the place,” he replies, stepping across the kitchen threshold. He flicks a switch on a Muggle kettle. Ginny reminds herself that most of the seaside cottage is run on eckeltricity in an effort to camouflage the place, or so Hermione says. “Tea?” Neville asks.
Ginny nods. “Please.” She looks at the black and white tiles of the kitchen floor. There are cracks through every one. “Where have they all gone?”
Neville cleans out the tea pot. “Hermione’s gone home to see her parents for a bit, and Ron went with her.”
Ginny raises her eyebrows at that. She didn’t know that Ron had gone to Hermione’s, and she wonders what Ron was thinking to forsake his own family. “Harry?” she asks, frowning inwardly at the edge of hope in her voice.
Neville’s expression changes and he turns away to where the Muggle kettle is beginning to boil. “Harry’s gone for a walk.” Steam rises from the kettle and flows up seeming to disappear into the ceiling.
Ginny looks at Neville for a moment before frowning. “Neville,” Ginny growls at him and he turns to face her. “You let him go for a walk alone?”
Neville shakes his head and shrugs at her hopelessly. Ginny can see worry in his eyes, and yet that does nothing to comfort her. Harry is out there alone. They all know that it is dangerous. “Harry…” Neville trails off, frowning. He breathes in heavily and meets Ginny’s eyes. “Harry is Harry.”
If it weren’t for the emotion in Neville’s voice, Ginny would have rolled her eyes. She still can. She can ignore whatever that tremor was in Neville’s voice, and can ignore that look. She doesn’t ignore it. Instead, Ginny looks away. She doesn’t know what to say, and she doesn’t know how to react, because Harry is Harry.
The Muggle kettle clicks.
Ginny is angry at Neville for not being able to stop Harry from going out alone. She is angry at Harry for thinking that going for a walk was an acceptable idea.
“Did you even try?” she asks.
Neville’s face darkens. He can hear the accusation. “Of course I did! Merlin, Ginny, I don’t want Harry dead. I want him safe just as much as you do.”
She crosses her arms, and looks at her mother’s basket sitting on the table. Her eyes trace the wicker weaving in and out. Ginny scowls at it.
She looks up and sighs. “I didn’t mean to imply…” Ginny begins.
“Ginny?” Harry is in the doorway now and he looks livid. “What are you doing here?” He steps through onto the black and white cracked tiles. “Didn’t I ask you not to come back? I told you it’s not safe for you. I thought you understood.”
Ginny glances at Neville who is pretending he isn’t there by quietly fixing tea for two.
“I’ll just be going then,” Neville says and steps away from the tea things on the bench.
“No,” Harry orders with a hand outstretched towards Neville. “No, Neville stay, I had something to ask you, and Ginny is leaving.”
She glares at him, her blue eyes locking with his green ones. They are both angry. Ginny can hardly believe the nerve of the boy standing in front of her. She loves him. Oh, she knows that she loves him, because it has to be love. Something this irrational has to be love.
“I’m going back to school next week,” she tells Harry. Her voice is soft and hopeful, but her eyes are still angry. “This’ll be the last time you’ll see me.”
Harry’s eyes soften for a moment and something changes around his mouth. There is a wistfulness that Ginny knows.
She purses her lips bitterly. “So this is how we’re going to be,” she says, picking up her wand. She returns to the fireplace in the living room. Neville stands behind Harry, and their figures are half-silhouetted in the greyness of the afternoon light. She picks up a handful of floo powder from the dish on the mantelpiece.
“Goodbye,” she says, not sure which boy it is directed at, but knowing that it’s final.
Author: quietliban
Rating: PG (angst)
Word Count: 1042 words
Summary: Ginny goes to visit Ron, Harry and Hermione at their seaside cottage. They are not who she finds there.
Author's Notes: lyras gave me 'Neville and Ginny (romantic or otherwise). Prompt - the smell of the sea?' and this is what I came up with. It's not very smelly.
The title is taken from a line in Dover Beach, a poem by Matthew Arnold (Year 12 English is never going to leave me).
Sophocles Long Ago
When Ginny arrives with a basket of her mother’s cooking on her arm, and her wand in hand, the cottage is empty. She steps out of the fireplace into an empty room. There is a single dilapidated couch with a blanket strewn across it sitting in the centre of the living room.
The holidays are almost over, and Ginny wishes that Ron would come home. He won’t. Ginny knows this. He, Harry and Hermione insist on staying in this run down cottage by the sea.
Ginny walks through the living room heading into the kitchen in its cracked tile glory. “Ron! Harry! Hermione!” she calls out. “Anyone?” she whispers to the empty house. Loneliness washes through her. She has been left out. She knows she has.
She pretended that it didn’t bother her at first. She pretended that the Break Up hadn’t hurt her. She pretended, because she had thought that what she had with Harry was too good to last, that it was too right to be real.
She had supposed that the Break Up was flattering, in a way, romantic even. Nevertheless, sometimes just before sleep claimed her, other thoughts would tumble through her mind, and anger would bubble up in her belly. That is when she knows that it was a weak excuse. As if she is too precious to him? As if she would be in more danger being in a relationship with him, than she is now?
Ginny is in danger anyway. She is a Weasley, a member of a family known to be sympathetic to Muggles. It’s not as though she wasn’t targeted by Death Eaters before anything ever happened between her and Harry. The Diary wasn’t even because of Harry. It was because of her father.
She sighs as she places the basket down on the kitchen table.
“Ginny?”
She starts when she hears Neville’s voice. She hadn’t expected Neville to be here. He is standing in the doorway, with his wand in one hand, and a look of caution on his face.
“Neville! What are you doing here?”
He shrugs. “Minding the place,” he replies, stepping across the kitchen threshold. He flicks a switch on a Muggle kettle. Ginny reminds herself that most of the seaside cottage is run on eckeltricity in an effort to camouflage the place, or so Hermione says. “Tea?” Neville asks.
Ginny nods. “Please.” She looks at the black and white tiles of the kitchen floor. There are cracks through every one. “Where have they all gone?”
Neville cleans out the tea pot. “Hermione’s gone home to see her parents for a bit, and Ron went with her.”
Ginny raises her eyebrows at that. She didn’t know that Ron had gone to Hermione’s, and she wonders what Ron was thinking to forsake his own family. “Harry?” she asks, frowning inwardly at the edge of hope in her voice.
Neville’s expression changes and he turns away to where the Muggle kettle is beginning to boil. “Harry’s gone for a walk.” Steam rises from the kettle and flows up seeming to disappear into the ceiling.
Ginny looks at Neville for a moment before frowning. “Neville,” Ginny growls at him and he turns to face her. “You let him go for a walk alone?”
Neville shakes his head and shrugs at her hopelessly. Ginny can see worry in his eyes, and yet that does nothing to comfort her. Harry is out there alone. They all know that it is dangerous. “Harry…” Neville trails off, frowning. He breathes in heavily and meets Ginny’s eyes. “Harry is Harry.”
If it weren’t for the emotion in Neville’s voice, Ginny would have rolled her eyes. She still can. She can ignore whatever that tremor was in Neville’s voice, and can ignore that look. She doesn’t ignore it. Instead, Ginny looks away. She doesn’t know what to say, and she doesn’t know how to react, because Harry is Harry.
The Muggle kettle clicks.
Ginny is angry at Neville for not being able to stop Harry from going out alone. She is angry at Harry for thinking that going for a walk was an acceptable idea.
“Did you even try?” she asks.
Neville’s face darkens. He can hear the accusation. “Of course I did! Merlin, Ginny, I don’t want Harry dead. I want him safe just as much as you do.”
She crosses her arms, and looks at her mother’s basket sitting on the table. Her eyes trace the wicker weaving in and out. Ginny scowls at it.
She looks up and sighs. “I didn’t mean to imply…” Ginny begins.
“Ginny?” Harry is in the doorway now and he looks livid. “What are you doing here?” He steps through onto the black and white cracked tiles. “Didn’t I ask you not to come back? I told you it’s not safe for you. I thought you understood.”
Ginny glances at Neville who is pretending he isn’t there by quietly fixing tea for two.
“I’ll just be going then,” Neville says and steps away from the tea things on the bench.
“No,” Harry orders with a hand outstretched towards Neville. “No, Neville stay, I had something to ask you, and Ginny is leaving.”
She glares at him, her blue eyes locking with his green ones. They are both angry. Ginny can hardly believe the nerve of the boy standing in front of her. She loves him. Oh, she knows that she loves him, because it has to be love. Something this irrational has to be love.
“I’m going back to school next week,” she tells Harry. Her voice is soft and hopeful, but her eyes are still angry. “This’ll be the last time you’ll see me.”
Harry’s eyes soften for a moment and something changes around his mouth. There is a wistfulness that Ginny knows.
She purses her lips bitterly. “So this is how we’re going to be,” she says, picking up her wand. She returns to the fireplace in the living room. Neville stands behind Harry, and their figures are half-silhouetted in the greyness of the afternoon light. She picks up a handful of floo powder from the dish on the mantelpiece.
“Goodbye,” she says, not sure which boy it is directed at, but knowing that it’s final.