Somewhere Warm (the deaths dream kingdom remix) [Harry Potter; Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley]
Title: Somewhere Warm (the deaths dream kingdom remix)
Author: shikishi
Summary:“We produce/ What warmth we can."
Rating:G/PG
Fandom: Harry Potter
Warnings: deathfic
Original story: Remix of Somewhere Warm by Niuserre
Notes: Thank you so so much to my readers and betas for all their work and handholding. A pairing I have personally never written, so, Niu, I hope you enjoy!
“We produce/ What warmth we can." - Thom Gunn
I know that I am dreaming.
It is one of those odd moments - too bright, too real - and Ginny stands next to me, her ginger hair whipping about the both of us as we stand, hands clasped together, staring out over the ocean.
She laughs, turning to me, sunlight on her face making her glow, and she kisses me softly.
“I wish that we could stay here forever.”
I nod my head and watch the water crash against the rocks beneath us.
I do not remember much of the attack. To be honest, I don’t remember anything at all.
One moment I was standing at the work bench in the small rented room we shared in Leeds, arguing with Neville over some silly point or other, and the next I heard a loud crash and Ernie shouting. I reached for my wand, tucked safely, I thought, behind my ear. And then nothing.
Nothing until I woke up here in the cold and the darkness.
It wasn’t until two days later, I think, that I recalled having stuck my wand into a sickly Gurdyroot that I was trying to wean back to health. I believe I was trying to get its temperature at that time, and that was what Nev and I were bickering about.
Neville always was a bit daft though when it came to magic.
Not that any of that matters now.
What I do remember was screaming and crying and then settling myself down to count the amount of rounded pieces of quartz I had in my pocket to make sure they matched up with what I’d put in there that morning, to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. They were all there, so no, not a dream, and that just made the seeping chill coming from the walls, the floors, from everywhere, that much worse.
I’d shivered and tried to huddle myself into as small a ball as was humanly possible, trying to hide myself without having to touch anything; and I wondered if anyone else had gotten out alive. I remembered that morning - it had been that morning, hadn’t it? - trying to drag Ginny out of bed and her trying to drag me back in. The sunlight had played across her hair, turning it to flames against the dingy pillowcase, and I had been sore tempted to crawl back in next to her but I knew that Seamus and Nev and the others were waiting for us.
I cursed myself for not having thrown a jumper into my bag and told myself that from now on I would always make sure to be prepared for things like Death Eater attacks even when the reporter on Wizarding Wireless radio insisted it was going to be warm and sunny for the week.
When they brought Ginny in, depositing her like a sack of kitchen potatoes on the floor with a rough thump, I wasn’t sure how long I’d been there in the darkness, the cold. I wasn’t sure how long they’d had her for, but she didn’t move or scream or swear or try to curse any of them with her infamous bat-bogey hex - so it had to have been too long. Much longer than I’d thought.
I know that I am dreaming but I tell myself not to care.
We are in one of the greenhouses back at Hogwarts and Ginny has me pressed up against the glass, her breath hot against my neck and her hand wriggling it’s way under the elastic waistband of my skirt. I wrap my leg around hers, sliding against her, against the window, opening myself up as her fingers find me and my head falls back against the glass.
Ginny is smiling, her face flushed and slick with sweat as she kisses me and I moan into her mouth, gasping for air, gasping her name. When I finish, Ginny presses her forehead against mine and I can feel the dampness there, can feel the way her hair clings to her face. Her breath burns my skin as she presses her mouth against my neck and whispers, “Someday.”
I awake in the darkness, my breath caught in my throat. I am alone, I have been alone for what seems like days but may be nothing more than a few hours. They have not brought Ginny back yet and I chew the inside of my mouth, wondering how long it will be until they remember to bring me food.
It seems that here, Ginny always comes right before feeding time.
Digging into my pocket I remove a piece of quartz, the pile is getting smaller, and place it against the wall with the others. It is one way of keeping track of the time.
The door opens with a shaft of light that makes my eyes burn and I pull myself back, hoping that she has returned, praying they don’t notice me. It closes again and I can hear Ginny’s ragged breathing in the darkness. I crawl carefully over to her, ignoring the cold dampness that seeps into my knees, and tentatively reach out until my fingers graze over what I think is her face, although it may very well be her elbow.
Ginny makes a low, whimpering sound and I stop and ask if she’s ok. Ginny does not answer but I can feel her move next to me, a small shake of her head. I nod in the darkness and sit next to her, slowly running my hands over the ends of her hair until she moves, sliding across the floor to reach me. Ginny wraps her arms around my waist and I touch the fragile bones covered by her skin and tell myself she is getting too thin.
I don’t know what to say so I hum under my breath, some old Muggle tune my mother use to sing when she was busy or cooking or just simply distracted. I can feel Ginny’s breath against my leg, slowly, slowly calming and I mutter the words, or what I remember of the words - Oh, I will take you back, Kathleen, to where your heart will feel no pain. And when the fields are fresh and green, I'll take you to your home again - until Ginny falls asleep against me.
We have been there in the darkness, the cold, for two weeks, maybe a month, when the fever starts. I awake in confusion and Ginny burns like a flame beside me, shivering and curling into herself. I wrap myself around her, trying not to hurt her when she fights and moans and tries to push me away. I wonder what Neville would say about the mosses growing on the walls here and if any of them would be able to help us, but I have never been the herbalist he is and I don’t dare try it.
This time when they come, a day, maybe two after the last time - this time when they take her, they bring her back too quickly and I know that somehow this is wrong. They dump her into the room, muttering under their breath like dogs, and the one who I think I remember turns and looks at me and smiles.
I giggle harshly, a rough choking sound, and think he looks like a deranged bunny with his protruding eyes and bucked teeth. And then everything happens too quickly for me to recount it all correctly.
Bunny man snarls and steps forward, his arms reaching for me and I curl back, pressing myself against the wall. I can see movement next to me and then Ginny’s voice and the momentary blinding green light of a wand and Bunny man has his fingers gripping my wrist and I cannot see what is happening but I know that it is bad.
And I start to scream.
When I awake I do not know where I am and it takes me a few moments to remember. The cold. The darkness. Ginny. I crawl over to where I think I see a shape, darker than the darkness which surrounds us. I shake her and scream and pull her tight against me, and I tell myself this is not what it seems.
Death is not like this. It involves too much noise and explosions and people running to grab you up and cover your eyes.
Not like this - in darkness, in cold, alone.
I pull Ginny tight against me and try to convince myself this is not real; this is only a dream.
I awake with a start, my heart hammering in my chest. It is nighttime and the room is dark. I do not know where I am and am momentarily disoriented.
Next to me is Ginny, her warm body pressed close to my side, and she sighs in her sleep, wrapping her arm tightly around me and kissing my shoulder, my collarbone, my neck. Her hair wraps about us like flames on the white sheets and her breath is warm against me as she whispers, “Forever.”
Author: shikishi
Summary:“We produce/ What warmth we can."
Rating:G/PG
Fandom: Harry Potter
Warnings: deathfic
Original story: Remix of Somewhere Warm by Niuserre
Notes: Thank you so so much to my readers and betas for all their work and handholding. A pairing I have personally never written, so, Niu, I hope you enjoy!
“We produce/ What warmth we can." - Thom Gunn
I know that I am dreaming.
It is one of those odd moments - too bright, too real - and Ginny stands next to me, her ginger hair whipping about the both of us as we stand, hands clasped together, staring out over the ocean.
She laughs, turning to me, sunlight on her face making her glow, and she kisses me softly.
“I wish that we could stay here forever.”
I nod my head and watch the water crash against the rocks beneath us.
I do not remember much of the attack. To be honest, I don’t remember anything at all.
One moment I was standing at the work bench in the small rented room we shared in Leeds, arguing with Neville over some silly point or other, and the next I heard a loud crash and Ernie shouting. I reached for my wand, tucked safely, I thought, behind my ear. And then nothing.
Nothing until I woke up here in the cold and the darkness.
It wasn’t until two days later, I think, that I recalled having stuck my wand into a sickly Gurdyroot that I was trying to wean back to health. I believe I was trying to get its temperature at that time, and that was what Nev and I were bickering about.
Neville always was a bit daft though when it came to magic.
Not that any of that matters now.
What I do remember was screaming and crying and then settling myself down to count the amount of rounded pieces of quartz I had in my pocket to make sure they matched up with what I’d put in there that morning, to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. They were all there, so no, not a dream, and that just made the seeping chill coming from the walls, the floors, from everywhere, that much worse.
I’d shivered and tried to huddle myself into as small a ball as was humanly possible, trying to hide myself without having to touch anything; and I wondered if anyone else had gotten out alive. I remembered that morning - it had been that morning, hadn’t it? - trying to drag Ginny out of bed and her trying to drag me back in. The sunlight had played across her hair, turning it to flames against the dingy pillowcase, and I had been sore tempted to crawl back in next to her but I knew that Seamus and Nev and the others were waiting for us.
I cursed myself for not having thrown a jumper into my bag and told myself that from now on I would always make sure to be prepared for things like Death Eater attacks even when the reporter on Wizarding Wireless radio insisted it was going to be warm and sunny for the week.
When they brought Ginny in, depositing her like a sack of kitchen potatoes on the floor with a rough thump, I wasn’t sure how long I’d been there in the darkness, the cold. I wasn’t sure how long they’d had her for, but she didn’t move or scream or swear or try to curse any of them with her infamous bat-bogey hex - so it had to have been too long. Much longer than I’d thought.
I know that I am dreaming but I tell myself not to care.
We are in one of the greenhouses back at Hogwarts and Ginny has me pressed up against the glass, her breath hot against my neck and her hand wriggling it’s way under the elastic waistband of my skirt. I wrap my leg around hers, sliding against her, against the window, opening myself up as her fingers find me and my head falls back against the glass.
Ginny is smiling, her face flushed and slick with sweat as she kisses me and I moan into her mouth, gasping for air, gasping her name. When I finish, Ginny presses her forehead against mine and I can feel the dampness there, can feel the way her hair clings to her face. Her breath burns my skin as she presses her mouth against my neck and whispers, “Someday.”
I awake in the darkness, my breath caught in my throat. I am alone, I have been alone for what seems like days but may be nothing more than a few hours. They have not brought Ginny back yet and I chew the inside of my mouth, wondering how long it will be until they remember to bring me food.
It seems that here, Ginny always comes right before feeding time.
Digging into my pocket I remove a piece of quartz, the pile is getting smaller, and place it against the wall with the others. It is one way of keeping track of the time.
The door opens with a shaft of light that makes my eyes burn and I pull myself back, hoping that she has returned, praying they don’t notice me. It closes again and I can hear Ginny’s ragged breathing in the darkness. I crawl carefully over to her, ignoring the cold dampness that seeps into my knees, and tentatively reach out until my fingers graze over what I think is her face, although it may very well be her elbow.
Ginny makes a low, whimpering sound and I stop and ask if she’s ok. Ginny does not answer but I can feel her move next to me, a small shake of her head. I nod in the darkness and sit next to her, slowly running my hands over the ends of her hair until she moves, sliding across the floor to reach me. Ginny wraps her arms around my waist and I touch the fragile bones covered by her skin and tell myself she is getting too thin.
I don’t know what to say so I hum under my breath, some old Muggle tune my mother use to sing when she was busy or cooking or just simply distracted. I can feel Ginny’s breath against my leg, slowly, slowly calming and I mutter the words, or what I remember of the words - Oh, I will take you back, Kathleen, to where your heart will feel no pain. And when the fields are fresh and green, I'll take you to your home again - until Ginny falls asleep against me.
We have been there in the darkness, the cold, for two weeks, maybe a month, when the fever starts. I awake in confusion and Ginny burns like a flame beside me, shivering and curling into herself. I wrap myself around her, trying not to hurt her when she fights and moans and tries to push me away. I wonder what Neville would say about the mosses growing on the walls here and if any of them would be able to help us, but I have never been the herbalist he is and I don’t dare try it.
This time when they come, a day, maybe two after the last time - this time when they take her, they bring her back too quickly and I know that somehow this is wrong. They dump her into the room, muttering under their breath like dogs, and the one who I think I remember turns and looks at me and smiles.
I giggle harshly, a rough choking sound, and think he looks like a deranged bunny with his protruding eyes and bucked teeth. And then everything happens too quickly for me to recount it all correctly.
Bunny man snarls and steps forward, his arms reaching for me and I curl back, pressing myself against the wall. I can see movement next to me and then Ginny’s voice and the momentary blinding green light of a wand and Bunny man has his fingers gripping my wrist and I cannot see what is happening but I know that it is bad.
And I start to scream.
When I awake I do not know where I am and it takes me a few moments to remember. The cold. The darkness. Ginny. I crawl over to where I think I see a shape, darker than the darkness which surrounds us. I shake her and scream and pull her tight against me, and I tell myself this is not what it seems.
Death is not like this. It involves too much noise and explosions and people running to grab you up and cover your eyes.
Not like this - in darkness, in cold, alone.
I pull Ginny tight against me and try to convince myself this is not real; this is only a dream.
I awake with a start, my heart hammering in my chest. It is nighttime and the room is dark. I do not know where I am and am momentarily disoriented.
Next to me is Ginny, her warm body pressed close to my side, and she sighs in her sleep, wrapping her arm tightly around me and kissing my shoulder, my collarbone, my neck. Her hair wraps about us like flames on the white sheets and her breath is warm against me as she whispers, “Forever.”