Fic: By the Firelight
Title: By the Firelight
Author: blueeyedgrl
Characters and pairings: Harry/Ginny
Rating and warnings, if any: G
Prompt, if any:
Summary: In the aftermath of Dumbledore's death, Harry and Ginny are alone by the firelight.
The flames flickering in the grate cast a dancing red-orange glow around the walls of the empty common room, a pronounced silence blanketing the castle. Though nowhere is that silence more pronounced than here in the Gryffindor common room where, until just a short time ago, Harry was surrounded by a sea of fellow Gryffindors, and yet still seemed to feel totally and completely alone.
They all want to know. He knows this. They always want to know. And it’s not just his schoolmates that want to know, the Ministry wants to know too. As does everyone else in the Wizarding world. But he wonders, staring pointedly into the fire, how any of them could ever possibly know. They can never fully know about what happened inside that cave, or even on the tower. They can never possibly know the path he must now take, despite the fact that, if given the choice, he would have never chosen to bear the burdens he now must.
He’s managed to outlast them all, each of them climbing the spiral staircase up to the dormitories in turn, deciding to try and sleep, because after all, what else could there possibly have been to do on a night like this one, where everything had been turned completely upside down, even by Hogwarts’ usual standards. Death Eaters inside the castle (he knows there are still some who don’t quite know how they gained entrance), Dumbledore … and at the hand of someone whom he had trusted implicitly, whom he had believed changed. Harry’s stomach gives a queasy, empty lurch at the thought of it all.
He hears the soft sound of bare footsteps on the stairs behind him. He sits, staring more fixedly at the fire dancing before him, his normally curious nature not even curious enough to turn and discover who dares to interrupt his quiet. Mostly he hopes that by giving the sound absolutely no acknowledgement, whoever it is will just leave him be.
But the intoxicating flowery scent that he has come to know all too well keeps getting closer until Ginny is sitting cross legged on the floor beside him. He briefly turns his head to look at her, making a mental note of the way the flames dance in her eyes and how the highlights and undertones of her hair - red on red - must put even the fiercest fire to shame.
He silently slides his hand into hers and turns his attention back to the fire before him.
Ginny, for her part, says nothing. She knows that it’s always been in his nature to internalize and compartmentalize everything, though she can almost feel the heavy weight of the burden he now bears.
She glances down at their clasped hands as he ever-so-slightly tightens his hold. She turns her head slightly, resting her chin on his shoulder, her own hand tightening around his in return.
“Ginny …” he breaks the silence at last, though the words he wants and has tried so hard to find now refuse to come out, and so her name hangs between them, though he suspects she has a feeling about what he’s attempting to say. She does that, Ginny. She just knows. She may truthfully be the only person who really does. And Harry has no idea how.
“I know, Harry,” she says quietly, leaning in closer, her hand just that much tighter in his. And she does; she has always known that she will eventually have to let him go. It’s the price, unfortunately, of loving him.
He realizes with a guilty pang in his chest, his thumb dancing slowly over the back of her hand, how cruel this is for both of them, but mostly for her. He has always known that his path would lead him to this, though he never truthfully thought it would come quite so soon. But Ginny … she deserves better than the uncertain, possibly non-existent future that he can offer her. She deserves, Harry thinks resentfully, someone who won’t have to leave her at a moment’s notice, as he knows he will have to.
Yes, fate is a cruel, cruel mistress.
“I wish I could stay.” he says truthfully, because he doesn’t want to go, not yet. He wants more time, thinks that he could stay, but knows it will just delay the inevitable.
“You know you can’t.”
It’s the simplicity and finality of her words that causes his head to turn, meeting her eyes. And he’s surprised to see that she doesn’t seem sad or upset, just … resigned is the best way he can think to describe it.
“You are who you are, Harry, and you can’t change that.” She pauses and turns to the fire again, staring silently ahead. And when she turns back to him, he sees nothing but certainty in her eyes, hears it in her voice. “You have to do this. Wherever you were before Dumbledore died, whatever you were searching for … it leads to the end of all of this. It has to. And you’re the only one who can find that end.”
Harry nods slowly, and oddly enough he’s comforted by the fact that she isn’t trying to talk him out of this. Perhaps because she knows that the trouble of being The Chosen One is that he really has no choice, no say in his own destiny.
He and Ginny sit together in silence, both losing track of time as the fire in front of them splutters and slowly dies out, giving way to a long sliver of bright yellow light streaming in through the window of the common room, the sunrise bringing with it the start of a new day.
Author: blueeyedgrl
Characters and pairings: Harry/Ginny
Rating and warnings, if any: G
Prompt, if any:
Summary: In the aftermath of Dumbledore's death, Harry and Ginny are alone by the firelight.
The flames flickering in the grate cast a dancing red-orange glow around the walls of the empty common room, a pronounced silence blanketing the castle. Though nowhere is that silence more pronounced than here in the Gryffindor common room where, until just a short time ago, Harry was surrounded by a sea of fellow Gryffindors, and yet still seemed to feel totally and completely alone.
They all want to know. He knows this. They always want to know. And it’s not just his schoolmates that want to know, the Ministry wants to know too. As does everyone else in the Wizarding world. But he wonders, staring pointedly into the fire, how any of them could ever possibly know. They can never fully know about what happened inside that cave, or even on the tower. They can never possibly know the path he must now take, despite the fact that, if given the choice, he would have never chosen to bear the burdens he now must.
He’s managed to outlast them all, each of them climbing the spiral staircase up to the dormitories in turn, deciding to try and sleep, because after all, what else could there possibly have been to do on a night like this one, where everything had been turned completely upside down, even by Hogwarts’ usual standards. Death Eaters inside the castle (he knows there are still some who don’t quite know how they gained entrance), Dumbledore … and at the hand of someone whom he had trusted implicitly, whom he had believed changed. Harry’s stomach gives a queasy, empty lurch at the thought of it all.
He hears the soft sound of bare footsteps on the stairs behind him. He sits, staring more fixedly at the fire dancing before him, his normally curious nature not even curious enough to turn and discover who dares to interrupt his quiet. Mostly he hopes that by giving the sound absolutely no acknowledgement, whoever it is will just leave him be.
But the intoxicating flowery scent that he has come to know all too well keeps getting closer until Ginny is sitting cross legged on the floor beside him. He briefly turns his head to look at her, making a mental note of the way the flames dance in her eyes and how the highlights and undertones of her hair - red on red - must put even the fiercest fire to shame.
He silently slides his hand into hers and turns his attention back to the fire before him.
Ginny, for her part, says nothing. She knows that it’s always been in his nature to internalize and compartmentalize everything, though she can almost feel the heavy weight of the burden he now bears.
She glances down at their clasped hands as he ever-so-slightly tightens his hold. She turns her head slightly, resting her chin on his shoulder, her own hand tightening around his in return.
“Ginny …” he breaks the silence at last, though the words he wants and has tried so hard to find now refuse to come out, and so her name hangs between them, though he suspects she has a feeling about what he’s attempting to say. She does that, Ginny. She just knows. She may truthfully be the only person who really does. And Harry has no idea how.
“I know, Harry,” she says quietly, leaning in closer, her hand just that much tighter in his. And she does; she has always known that she will eventually have to let him go. It’s the price, unfortunately, of loving him.
He realizes with a guilty pang in his chest, his thumb dancing slowly over the back of her hand, how cruel this is for both of them, but mostly for her. He has always known that his path would lead him to this, though he never truthfully thought it would come quite so soon. But Ginny … she deserves better than the uncertain, possibly non-existent future that he can offer her. She deserves, Harry thinks resentfully, someone who won’t have to leave her at a moment’s notice, as he knows he will have to.
Yes, fate is a cruel, cruel mistress.
“I wish I could stay.” he says truthfully, because he doesn’t want to go, not yet. He wants more time, thinks that he could stay, but knows it will just delay the inevitable.
“You know you can’t.”
It’s the simplicity and finality of her words that causes his head to turn, meeting her eyes. And he’s surprised to see that she doesn’t seem sad or upset, just … resigned is the best way he can think to describe it.
“You are who you are, Harry, and you can’t change that.” She pauses and turns to the fire again, staring silently ahead. And when she turns back to him, he sees nothing but certainty in her eyes, hears it in her voice. “You have to do this. Wherever you were before Dumbledore died, whatever you were searching for … it leads to the end of all of this. It has to. And you’re the only one who can find that end.”
Harry nods slowly, and oddly enough he’s comforted by the fact that she isn’t trying to talk him out of this. Perhaps because she knows that the trouble of being The Chosen One is that he really has no choice, no say in his own destiny.
He and Ginny sit together in silence, both losing track of time as the fire in front of them splutters and slowly dies out, giving way to a long sliver of bright yellow light streaming in through the window of the common room, the sunrise bringing with it the start of a new day.