Chapter 2 : Demons
| ||Rating: 15+||Chapter Reviews: 4|
Background: Font color:
It was over before it could begin.
Before he had the chance to lift his wand to disarm the Dark Lord, she crumpled in front of him, lifeless and pale. Voldemort’s face twisted as a cold laughter sounded throughout the otherwise silent Great Hall.
Harry woke with a start, the sound of the Dark Lord’s cruel laugh still ringing in his ears as sweat trickled down his face and the back of his neck. He sat up in bed, relieved that his scar wasn’t burning like it used to. It hadn’t hurt in the last five years - he didn’t want to think about the possibility of it aching again.
He turned and looked to the side, seeing his fiancé sleeping peacefully next to him. Her long, red hair sprawled out on the pillow beside her. Harry let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, touching her arm just to be sure. The warmth from her body radiated underneath his cold hands and he felt his shoulders sag with relief.
It wasn’t real. Ginny was still alive.
Carefully, he slipped out of the bed and went over to the window. The air was turning crisp and he closed the window, blocking the chill wind from getting inside their flat. He knew she liked to sleep with it open, especially in the summer, but now, autumn was quickly approaching. Nights were growing colder and soon they’d have to fight about the fresh air. At least that was a fight he could handle.
Harry blinked, rubbing his bleary eyes and knowing that he wouldn’t be able to fall back into a peaceful slumber, despite the early hours of the morning. The sky was still pitch black, dawn sleeping over the horizon. He hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since the day the war ended.
He was convinced his nightmares would never stop. Some of them were real memories, back to haunt him - some of them were of the bodies he’d discovered laying across the Great Hall, the students and professors alike who had died on his account, fighting in a battle he’d never wanted. Some of them hadn’t happened, images of Ginny laying amongst the dead, or Voldemort rising yet again and killing her out of spite of his happy ending, images of Ron or Hermione sacrificing themselves for him without him being able to talk them out of it.
Harry began to creep out of the bedroom, thinking about making a cup of coffee to keep him company in the darkest hours of the night. But as his hand gripped on the door, he heard stirring.
“Harry?” Ginny asked, her voice groggy. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, love,” he assured her. “Go back to sleep.”
“Did you have another nightmare?” she replied, and he heard movement. A silent lumos bathed the room in a dim light as she crossed the room, her bare feet muffled as they moved over the carpet.
“It’s okay,” he replied, his voice low, strained with stress and tiredness.
“Harry, I thought we were out of the phase of you keeping secrets from me,” she said, her tone clipped. Even in her exhaustion, she still managed to chide him.
He couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face. This was the woman he loved. This strong, fierce, independent woman who had fought to stay beside him. Even when he was convinced she was going to choose someone else, deep down he had known that she was going to come back to him. They were written in the stars - and considering he’d never been very good at Divination while at Hogwarts, it said something of his confidence that Ginny and he was the one thing he knew he could count on.
“We are. It’s not a big deal. It was over before it could begin,” he assured her.
“But it was enough to wake you up in the middle of the night. Are you going to make some coffee? You’ll never fall back asleep that way.”
“Maybe sleep is what I’m trying to avoid.”
Ginny’s arms found their way around his waist and she drew him closer. “Have you thought about taking something to help you sleep?” she suggested. “You’re going to need your rest if you have your interview with the Ministry tomorrow morning.”
Gently, he pushed the hair over her shoulders. “I’m ready for the interview, Gin. I just - I don’t want to go back to sleep. I don’t want to risk closing my eyes and seeing what I saw just before I woke up,” he admitted. “But you go back to sleep.”
“I have to be up in a few hours for training,” Ginny argued. “If you’re staying awake, so am I.”
“Want to play a game of wizard’s chess?” he offered, knowing it was useless to try and convince her to go back to sleep. The game became a tradition, before they’d mended their relationship completely - when one of them wouldn’t sleep, they would set it up in the Weasley’s living room or Harry’s brand new flat and play until the sun rose.
“Only if you tell me about your nightmare. The only way to get it out of your head is if you talk about it,” she pointed out, tugging him closer.
Harry rested his chin on her shoulder. She smelled faintly of vanilla. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered, his lips near her ear. He felt her shiver at his touch. “It wasn’t real. You’re here with me, and that’s all that matters.”
She pulled away slightly and even in the dim light, he could see her frown. “Was it about me?”
“All of my worst nightmares are about losing you.”
“I’m here,” she said quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Not anymore,” Harry corrected, and he was pleased that there wasn’t any bitterness in his tone. He knew that she had settled with him - that there was a certain Irish bloke that had captured her heart long ago - but that was in the past. She seemed as though she really loved him again. Maybe it was possible for true love to find its way back. Written in the stars, and all.
“No,” she agreed. “Not anymore.”
Without warning, Harry pressed her lips against hers and she kissed him back without hesitation. He pulled her closer to him, hands tracing the familiar territory of the flesh on her sides. She moaned softly in his mouth as his tongue found hers, and he carefully started pushing her back to their bed, plans of making coffee and playing wizard’s chess forgotten as her body moved against his.
His nightmare escaped the darkest parts of his subconscious as clothing started to disappear, falling unceremoniously to the floor.
As long as he had her, Harry knew that he could conquer anything.
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories
The Boy Who ...
by Cherry Bear