Membership Vote #18 | Fic - The Day After | H/G
New story for membership vote! As per usual, the author would love to hear your thoughts. Voting will stay open for one week. ETA: Voting is closed.
Title: The Day After
Author: oddatfirstsight
Rating: PG
Word Count: 913
The bright sunlight filtering into Ginny Weasley's bedroom through her partially opened window is not fitting for her mood. As she lies in bed, tangled in old, worn sheets, she decides that she'd prefer dark, heavy rain clouds and maybe even a bolt or two of lightning. She cannot quite describe the feeling that is gradually settling into her, but it's sharp and slow and it feels like it will never end.
She notices that the house seems eerily quiet. She does not hear the sounds of clanking pots and pans as her Mum hurries about preparing breakfast, nor does she hear the muffled sounds of conversations that are normally taking place during mid-morning at the Burrow. Everything already seems different, and it's only been a day.
She rolls over onto her side and catches her reflection in the mirror that rests upon her desk. Her face is pale, her many freckles standing out vividly against her skin. She can't bear to look at her hair; it's the exact same shade as Fred's. Thinking of him brings hot, burning tears to her eyes, but she doesn't let them fall. She cried enough the night before.
It seems strange to her that Fred is gone, when only two days before she had been sitting at the dinner table at Auntie Muriel's with him. She half-expects him to burst into her room with a grin on his face, plopping down onto the bed and telling her the latest product he and George created. But he doesn't come, and she knows that it's real.
She winces slightly as she pulls herself into a sitting position; she'd fallen to the ground as her mother blocked her from Bellatrix Lestrange's Killing Curse the day before. She'd never seen her mother look quite as fierce as she had as she dueled Bellatrix, her hair whipping around her like fire. After Bellatrix had fallen in a heap on the ground, her eyes wide and unblinking, her mother had grabbed her and held her closer than she ever had before.
A soft knock at the door interrupts her thoughts.
"Ginny?" a familiar voice calls, "are you awake?"
"Yes," Ginny says, her voice sounding strange, as though she hasn't used it in days. "Come in."
Hermione enters the room, her bushy hair pulled back away from her face. She is still dressed in her nightclothes. "Here," she says, handing Ginny a steaming mug of tea. "I thought you could use some."
Ginny takes the cup and offers her friend a small smile. "Thanks."
Hermione sits on the edge of the bed and watches as Ginny takes a small sip of her tea. "Everyone is downstairs," she says quietly. "Your mum's been asking for you."
Ginny nods. She turns her head towards the window, and stares out at the clear blue sky that seems to stretch endlessly ahead of her. Fred flashes through her mind once more. "I'll be down in a bit," she says, avoiding Hermione's gaze.
Hermione fingers the frayed edges of Ginny's blanket, and Ginny knows that she wants to say more. But Ginny, taking another sip of her tea, feeling the hot liquid slide smoothly down her throat, doesn't want to hear it. There is nothing in Hermione's well-studied vocabulary that can make the ache in her chest disappear.
After a few moments spent in silence, Hermione stands from the bed and shuffles over to the door. Her hand rests briefly on the doorknob before turning it. She turns back to look at Ginny, still sitting cross-legged on the unmade bed, and says, "Harry's downstairs, too." Without waiting for Ginny to reply, Hermione steps out into the hallway and quietly closes the door behind her.
Ginny hates herself for being scared. She's scared to go downstairs and see him there, because what if he doesn't want to talk to her? What if, after everything, there is nothing left for them to say? She is not scared of what has already happened. She is terrified of what might not.
Standing slowly from the bed, she walks across the room and opens the door. As she descends the winding staircase, she hears the soft sounds of conversation, but there is no laughter. The ache in her chest intensifies, but she keeps walking until she reaches the bottom.
He's standing there as her feet touch the last step.
She stares at him for a moment that seems to go on forever. He starts to move towards her, but she stops him. "Your shoelace."
"I - what?" he says, confusion settling into his face.
"It's untied," she says, pointing to his trainers.
"Oh." He bends down and ties it, and the seconds that pass seem more like hours. Ginny can feel her insides twisting. For once in her life, she doesn't know what to say.
Harry looks up at her, and she knows he doesn't know what to say, either. Or maybe, there's so much to say and neither of them know how to say it. But Ginny knows that there is nothing but time stretching ahead of them - the normalcy of it all strikes her, a small smile coming to her lips - and maybe right now, words aren't important.
She takes a few steps closer to him and slides her hand into his, feeling his fingers wrap around hers. There's still a long road ahead, but as he squeezes her hand, sending shivers down her spine, she's glad that they've made a start.
Poll Membership Vote #18
Title: The Day After
Author: oddatfirstsight
Rating: PG
Word Count: 913
The bright sunlight filtering into Ginny Weasley's bedroom through her partially opened window is not fitting for her mood. As she lies in bed, tangled in old, worn sheets, she decides that she'd prefer dark, heavy rain clouds and maybe even a bolt or two of lightning. She cannot quite describe the feeling that is gradually settling into her, but it's sharp and slow and it feels like it will never end.
She notices that the house seems eerily quiet. She does not hear the sounds of clanking pots and pans as her Mum hurries about preparing breakfast, nor does she hear the muffled sounds of conversations that are normally taking place during mid-morning at the Burrow. Everything already seems different, and it's only been a day.
She rolls over onto her side and catches her reflection in the mirror that rests upon her desk. Her face is pale, her many freckles standing out vividly against her skin. She can't bear to look at her hair; it's the exact same shade as Fred's. Thinking of him brings hot, burning tears to her eyes, but she doesn't let them fall. She cried enough the night before.
It seems strange to her that Fred is gone, when only two days before she had been sitting at the dinner table at Auntie Muriel's with him. She half-expects him to burst into her room with a grin on his face, plopping down onto the bed and telling her the latest product he and George created. But he doesn't come, and she knows that it's real.
She winces slightly as she pulls herself into a sitting position; she'd fallen to the ground as her mother blocked her from Bellatrix Lestrange's Killing Curse the day before. She'd never seen her mother look quite as fierce as she had as she dueled Bellatrix, her hair whipping around her like fire. After Bellatrix had fallen in a heap on the ground, her eyes wide and unblinking, her mother had grabbed her and held her closer than she ever had before.
A soft knock at the door interrupts her thoughts.
"Ginny?" a familiar voice calls, "are you awake?"
"Yes," Ginny says, her voice sounding strange, as though she hasn't used it in days. "Come in."
Hermione enters the room, her bushy hair pulled back away from her face. She is still dressed in her nightclothes. "Here," she says, handing Ginny a steaming mug of tea. "I thought you could use some."
Ginny takes the cup and offers her friend a small smile. "Thanks."
Hermione sits on the edge of the bed and watches as Ginny takes a small sip of her tea. "Everyone is downstairs," she says quietly. "Your mum's been asking for you."
Ginny nods. She turns her head towards the window, and stares out at the clear blue sky that seems to stretch endlessly ahead of her. Fred flashes through her mind once more. "I'll be down in a bit," she says, avoiding Hermione's gaze.
Hermione fingers the frayed edges of Ginny's blanket, and Ginny knows that she wants to say more. But Ginny, taking another sip of her tea, feeling the hot liquid slide smoothly down her throat, doesn't want to hear it. There is nothing in Hermione's well-studied vocabulary that can make the ache in her chest disappear.
After a few moments spent in silence, Hermione stands from the bed and shuffles over to the door. Her hand rests briefly on the doorknob before turning it. She turns back to look at Ginny, still sitting cross-legged on the unmade bed, and says, "Harry's downstairs, too." Without waiting for Ginny to reply, Hermione steps out into the hallway and quietly closes the door behind her.
Ginny hates herself for being scared. She's scared to go downstairs and see him there, because what if he doesn't want to talk to her? What if, after everything, there is nothing left for them to say? She is not scared of what has already happened. She is terrified of what might not.
Standing slowly from the bed, she walks across the room and opens the door. As she descends the winding staircase, she hears the soft sounds of conversation, but there is no laughter. The ache in her chest intensifies, but she keeps walking until she reaches the bottom.
He's standing there as her feet touch the last step.
She stares at him for a moment that seems to go on forever. He starts to move towards her, but she stops him. "Your shoelace."
"I - what?" he says, confusion settling into his face.
"It's untied," she says, pointing to his trainers.
"Oh." He bends down and ties it, and the seconds that pass seem more like hours. Ginny can feel her insides twisting. For once in her life, she doesn't know what to say.
Harry looks up at her, and she knows he doesn't know what to say, either. Or maybe, there's so much to say and neither of them know how to say it. But Ginny knows that there is nothing but time stretching ahead of them - the normalcy of it all strikes her, a small smile coming to her lips - and maybe right now, words aren't important.
She takes a few steps closer to him and slides her hand into his, feeling his fingers wrap around hers. There's still a long road ahead, but as he squeezes her hand, sending shivers down her spine, she's glad that they've made a start.
Poll Membership Vote #18