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How It's Going To Be

I can't stop with the Harry/Ginny fics. I guess I am a devoted Orange Crusher now.
Summary: Harry is having trouble sleeping and asks Ginny to help. Bedtime stories.
Rating: PG-13 for some smooching
Warnings: None


Disclaimer: The only Harry Potter that I own consists of several books with J.K. Rowling’s name on them and some DVDs that happen to be the expressed property of Warner Brothers.


How It’s Going To Be

The embers were all that was left of the Gryffindor common room. Harry had been watching as the logs were broken and turned to ash, sending off sparks; but he barely saw what he was looking at. He couldn’t sleep. He rarely slept well, sometimes maybe after a really long Quidditch match or practice. When he was physically exhausted he could get some sleep, but the mental exhaustion that he suffered everyday did not help him. Late night usually bled into early morning in front of his eyes as the flames fell into mere embers. Some nights he had company, some nights he didn’t, some nights he didn’t even notice.

This night, though, Ginny sat at the other end of the couch, her legs curled beneath her with feline grace. He had glanced over at her when she loudly turned a page of the book she was reading. She had given him a faint smile before turning her eyes back to the page. He had returned her gesture with a barely perceptible nod and returned his gaze to the dying fire.

Ginny often kept him silent company on these sleepless nights, sometimes next to him, sometimes on the other side of the room. There had been one night not even a week ago that she had actually fallen asleep. Her head had lolled over and come to rest on his shoulder. He hadn’t minded much at all. The touch was some small comfort to the fears warring in his mind. It pulled him out of himself just enough to hear her level easy breathing. He hadn’t even minded the small patch of drool that gathered on the shoulder of his robes. In fact the next thing he knew, Ginny was pulling her head sleepily from under his cheek and mumbling “Night, Harry,” before stumbling up the girls’ staircase with a wave behind her back.

He had no idea how long he had slept that night, his cheek resting on Ginny’s head. He just knew that he had not dreamt. And for that he had been thankful.

Most times Harry thought that his dreams were traitors, undermining his resolve. Flashes of green light followed by empty nothingness that left him falling endlessly. His scar did not prickle when he woke after these dreams, which made him even angrier. He wished that he could blame this on Voldemort, rather than on his own fears and insecurities. Instead, he simply stared into the fire.

He bitterly wondered why he couldn’t have normal teenage dreams. Dreams about what his life might be: Quidditch dreams, kissing dreams, even dreams of showing up to Potions class unprepared and naked would have been a welcome relief. Maybe his mind didn’t want to let him have those dreams, maybe he knew somewhere deep inside that he would not be able to have a future. He grimaced, he knew that since the prophecy it had been harder and harder for him to even daydream of a future life, beyond Voldemort, beyond murder. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, and it angered him. Why couldn’t he just lie to himself once in awhile and pretend that everything was going to be all right?

Just then Ginny closed her book, and Harry turned with a start of realization. Ginny. Ginny could lie to him, and she was so good at it that he would probably even believe her for just a moment.

“Ginny?’ He saw her start when he spoke; they usually remained silent during these firelight vigils.

“Yeah?” She turned to him looking as if she had not been startled at all and that this was normal course for the evening.

“Could you do me a favor?” Harry was a little skeptical; she might think that his request was rather odd.

“That depends,” Ginny smirked, “if you are trying that Seamus Finnegan ‘There is a war on and I don’t want to die a virgin’ line, I am not that kind of girl.” She giggled at the look on Harry’s face. His eyes nearly popped out of his head and his mouth dropped open as she spoke.

“Um, no it isn’t anything like that!” Harry was stunned, but somewhere in his mind he made a mental note to inform Fred and George about Finnegan’s request. “This might sound a bit mad…” He trailed off looking back to the fire, more to avoid her gaze than lose himself.

“Sillier than that? I doubt it!” Ginny laughed, “Just tell me Harry. I’ll see what I can do.”

“I want you to tell me a story,” Harry mumbled almost to himself.

“What? I couldn’t hear you.” Ginny tugged on the sleeve of his robe and Harry turned to face her.

“I want, no, I need you to tell me a story.” Harry said more clearly, but still not meeting her eyes.

“Like a bedtime story?” Her question did not sound condescending or mocking, but soft and sympathetic.

“I guess so,” Harry smiled and blushed a little at how odd his request sounded when she rephrased it. “I really don’t know. It’s not like I have ever had anyone tell me a bedtime story, but I guess that is what I need.”

“No, I don’t guess those Muggles ever told you bedtime stories,” She sneered as she said it and then sighed. “Okay Harry. I have been the recipient of probably a thousand bedtime stories. I think I can help. Of course, I will spare you Fred and George’s bedtime stories. They would keep you up for three days.” She snorted obviously reminiscing to herself. Harry watched as she picked up her wand and conjured a throw pillow in her lap. “Okay, lie down.”

“In your lap?” Harry was a bit shocked at the closeness that she was asking of him.

“Well you can’t sit up while you listen to a bedtime story,” she stated matter-of-factly as she patted the pillow in her lap. “And I really don’t want your stinky feet that close to my face.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry smiled nervously as he maneuvered his head onto the pillow facing away from her so that he could still watch the glowing embers of the fire. He had to admit that it was a very comfortable place to be, as Ginny settled one hand lightly on his shoulder.

“So, Harry, any requests?” Ginny’s voice floated softly down to his ear, warm and soft like the glow of the dying logs.

“Yes,” it was amazingly easy to tell her what he needed from here, not having to see the reaction on her face as he said the words. “I need you to tell me what it’s going to be like…after. I…I can’t seem to imagine anything for myself.” He felt her hand grip his shoulder a bit tighter and then start to move down to his elbow and back up. He found the sensation rather calming.

“You mean after school and everything?” Ginny questioned knowingly as Harry instinctively crossed his arms in front of his chest, grabbing his own elbows so that her hand brushed over his fingertips as she continued to stroke his arm.

“Yeah,” Harry felt himself almost choke up at the emotion in her voice, “after everything is over. Just tell me how things will be… for all of us.” He closed his eyes against the familiar sting and willed himself to sink into her offered comfort.

“Okay, Harry, where do you want me to start?”

“At the beginning, you know, right after the end.” It made no sense, but Ginny didn’t answer right away and he assumed that she understood exactly what he had meant by that.

“All right,” she said conveying her understanding before taking a deep breath. “A loud giggle wakes you up and you look around trying to figure out exactly where you are. You realize that you are in bed and you are pretty sure, even without your glasses,” Ginny reached down and removed Harry’s glasses from his face as she spoke, and he realized he could settle more comfortably on the pillow, “that you are in the hospital wing here in the castle. You reach out to the night stand and find your glasses. When you finally get them on you realize two things. One: the giggling is coming from behind the curtains around the bed next to yours; and two: that I am sitting next to your bed nicking chocolate frogs off your nightstand.”

“Hey, why are you stealing my chocolate frogs?” Harry mumbled trying to sound indignant, but really relishing that particular detail as it made Ginny’s story seem very plausible.

“Because, I like chocolate frogs, and I am hungry because I have been waiting all morning for you to wake up,” Ginny continued. “And I have to do something to distract myself from the sounds of my brother, your best friend, snogging your other best friend in the bed next to yours.” Harry snorted and felt Ginny’s hand again grip his shoulder. “You quickly realize what is going on next door and you and I share a knowing smile. Then I toss you a chocolate frog.”

“That is very generous of you,” Harry murmured, meaning to be sarcastic, but realizing shortly after that there were a lot of things that Ginny was generous with, the least of which were chocolate frogs. Her hand moved up to his head and she slowly began the hopeless occupation of smoothing down his hair over and over again.

“Then,” Ginny continued almost as if there had been no interruption from her one listener, “Madame Pomfrey alerts the kitchens and Dobby brings up lunch for all of us. Hermione and Ron finally unstick themselves from each other because Ron can never pass up food, and we have our own little feast right there on your bed. Hermione keeps nudging Ron and telling him not to talk with his mouth full, but he doesn’t listen to her; probably because he can’t really hear her over the sound of his own chewing. The bed is soft and the food is wonderful. We are all smiling and happy because we are all there with you and we know that we don’t have to worry any more.

Right before you dive into your favorite treacle tart, the hospital wing doors swing open and Amelia Bones strides in with a couple of her ministry lackeys at her side. She hands you two scrolls: one happens to be your Order of Merlin First Class, for saving the entire wizarding world, not to mention the entire Magical Law Enforcement staff from impending doom. Which it seems has saved the Ministry quite a few galleons on training costs so… You open the second scroll and find a statement from the ministry saying that several hundred thousand galleons have been placed in your vault at Gringotts’ as a reward. When you try to speak to tell her that you really don’t want a reward, Ron conveniently shoves a jam tart in your mouth and thanks her on your behalf.

When we are sufficiently stuffed, Madame Pomfrey decides that you are well enough to have visitors. She lets the rest of the Weasley clan in the hospital wing, but not before she practically frisks Fred and George for pranks and trick sweets. She does, however, allow them to present you with an official Hogwarts toilet seat, but only because they have a note from Dumbledore that says that they can. I am insanely jealous of your gift, because they promised me one seven years ago and never came through. You kindly offer to share it with me, and I thank you for your generosity. Mum hugs and kisses all of us with in an inch of our lives, and while we are all trying to catch our breath from practically being squeezed to death, Bill announces that he and Fleur are getting married. It seems her English lessons have been progressing nicely.”

Harry had long ago closed his eyes, and as visions of the Weasley clan cheerful and laughing, as they had been that night in the Burrow garden before the Quidditch World Cup filled his mind he drifted off to sleep.


Harry woke up to the sunlight filtering into the common room windows. The fire had long since died out. He noticed that he was sleeping on a familiar conjured pillow and his duvet had been neatly tucked in around him as he slept. He looked around and saw that his glasses were neatly folded on the small table in front of him. As he did, he noticed that it was oddly quiet in the common room even for early morning. Harry put on his glasses and the reason for the silence was soon apparent. Ginny, walking down from the girls’ dorm, flashed a smile at him. Then she mouthed something that Harry could not quite make out. He just looked at her quizzically. Ginny then raised her wand.

“Sorry, Harry, I forgot. I put an Imperturbable Spell around you last night. I didn’t realize that I did such a good job. I thought that it would have worn off by now.” Ginny seemed a bit amazed at herself and as she sat down in the chair across from him. “Did you sleep well?”

“Uhm,” Harry sat up and ran his hands through his hair as he kicked off his covers, “yeah,” he smiled, “yeah. I did.”

“Good. Now go get dressed. I am starving.” Harry saluted Ginny, as if he was a soldier taking an order and hurried up the boys’ staircase.


The next night found Harry again staring into the common room fire unable to sleep, unable to recapture the happy visions that Ginny had created for him the night before. But it did not find him alone. In fact, there were about twenty other Gryffindors seemingly settled into the common room for the long haul. He honestly thought of using his wand to banish at least the first years playing Exploding Snap back to their dormitory. After a second or two of thought on the matter, though, he realized that Hermione would probably try to give him detention for it.

Suddenly, Harry felt the couch behind him sink under the weight of someone’s hands. He turned his head and found himself with a mouthful of long red hair.

“Ginny, pbthhh, pbthhh,” Harry attempted to blow Ginny’s hair out of his mouth.

“Sorry bout that Harry,” Ginny laughed as she straightened up, and in doing so pulled her hair out of Harry’s mouth. It was the oddest sensation Harry had ever felt on his lips and it almost stunned him for a second. “How’s the sleeping going?” Harry shook his head and looked at her as she rounded the couch and took a seat beside him.

“Tonight or in general?” He asked wryly.

“Tonight,” Ginny answered as she rolled her eyes.

“Doesn’t matter, with the exception of last night,” Harry smiled at her and then felt a tinge of a blush rise to his cheeks as she met his gaze, “it’s been bloody awful. But it’s pretty loud here tonight. I hadn’t really tried to go to sleep yet.” Harry shrugged his shoulders and turned his face away from Ginny, returning to the high flames of the fire.

“Hmm,” Harry glanced back at her quickly and noticed that Ginny was looking thoughtfully around the common room, “Why don’t you go up and get your blanket and pillow and I will see what I can do around here.”

Harry knew better than to ask what it was exactly Ginny had planned. He figured it best not to be aware of the plan, incase there were witnesses and he was accused as a conspirator. Instead, he made his way up the staircase to his dorm and gathered his things from his bed. He stopped and decided that maybe he should go ahead and change into his pajamas. Ginny had worked wonders for him last night with her story, and he figured if she was going to indulge him again he might as well be as comfortable as he could.

When Harry returned to the common room it was empty except for Ginny who was again sitting at one end of the couch. She raised her wand and summoned his pillow to her lap. Harry looked around in amazement at the now empty room.

“Do I even want to know?” He asked with a smirk on his lips as he gestured around at the empty tables and chairs.

“Nope.” Ginny replied simply with a wicked grin worthy of the twins as she patted his pillow with her hand.

“All right, I will ask you no questions.” He smiled again as he settled himself down on the couch, his head for the second night in a row resting on a pillow in Ginny Weasley’s lap.

“And I will tell you no lies,” Ginny replied. Harry was glad that he was not facing her when she said it. She would have seen the pain that crossed his face; he didn’t want her to see it. She saw it enough, all of his friends did. But he knew that was the whole reason that he had asked her this favor in the first place. Because, that was one thing she could do. Ginny could tell him lies: beautiful, happy, cheerful, wonderful, believable lies.

“Where were we? Ah, yes,” Ginny continued without waiting for an answer, “I believe that we were all joyously celebrating Bill and Fleur’s engagement.” Her hand seemed to instinctively find its way back to Harry’s unruly hair and begin the soothing motion of the night before. It wasn’t quite maternal, not that he knew what that was exactly Harry thought to himself, but it was comforting.

Ginny went on with her story. Fred and George were thanking Harry for all the money that he had made for them in the past few days. They had sold out their entire stock of Whizz-bang fireworks for the hundreds of celebrations all over the Wizarding world.

“They tell you that you have a lifetime free pass for all of their products. And at that point Percy gets a little shirty with them because they won’t even give him a family discount. Fred pulls him aside and tells him that they may start charging you after you spend more than your original investment, in a loud stage whisper. And George chimes in that they weren’t going to tell you that until you were out of the hospital wing.”

Harry smiled; he had always rather enjoyed the way that the twins and Percy were at odds over everything. Of course he had preferred to side with the twins on almost every occasion, it was probably the Marauder streak in him that he had inherited from his father.

“Madame Pomfrey finally lets in Lupin, Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody. They seem to have realized that your stockpile of sweets was being rapidly diminished and they drop large bags from Honeydukes at the foot of your bed. Which, of course I open for you, just to help you sort out your favorites. Hermione keeps slapping Ron’s hands as he reaches for your bags, until Tonks produces a couple just for him. Then Hermione keeps rolling her eyes at him as he eats his own chocolate and of course talks with his mouth full.”

Harry smiled as he felt Ginny’s hand slip lightly down onto his arm. He reached up with his other hand and grasped her fingers. He hadn’t done it so much a show of affection as a confirmation for him; to remind himself that she was real and there, even if the words of her story were most likely a terribly optimistic fiction. But as he did so there was a tingle like static electricity between their fingers that he had never quite felt before. Ginny squeezed his fingers reassuringly and continued with her tale.

She was inventing a lively conversation between all of her characters and doing a bang up job of a Moody impersonation while congratulating Harry for keeping all of his appendages intact. She followed it with Dobby’s joyous entrance by Apparating directly onto Harry’s lap and proclaiming that there would be a celebratory feast that night in the Great Hall and that the House Elves were cooking furiously to prepare all of Harry Potter’s favorite foods. All the while Ginny held Harry’s hand in hers, and he slipped off to sleep with visions of House-Elves preparing treacle tarts in the spacious Hogwarts kitchens.


When Harry awoke the next morning he was surprised to realize that Ginny had not gotten up and retired to her room as she had the night before. Instead, she had fallen asleep herself, her head resting on the arm of the couch and her hand still entwined with his. She still had her school robes on from the night before but she had enlarged his duvet to cover her feet. Harry squeezed her hand gently, trying to wake her without startling her. She stirred and pulled her hand from his to rub her eyes, as Harry rolled over to look up at her.

“Hi,” Harry said as Ginny looked down, taking in her surroundings and smiled lazily at him.

“Morning, Harry,” Ginny replied through a wide yawn and then handed Harry his glasses. He had not even remembered her removing them last night. He put them on and sat up. Ginny was stretching and rubbing her neck.

“Are you okay?” Harry questioned feeling a little bit guilty that she had ended up falling asleep in such an uncomfortable position on his account.

“Yeah, I’ll be right as rain after some breakfast. Meet me back down here in a few minutes?” She stood up and wandered towards the girls’ staircase, still clutching Harry’s pillow in her hand. He decided that he would leave it be and mumbled his agreement as he got up to go get dressed.


The next five nights in a row found Harry’s head in Ginny’s lap, his mind wandering through her happily ever after dream world, and his fingers laced between hers. He had chuckled and smiled at her impersonation of Zacharias Smith greeting him in the Great Hall with subdued congratulations; tales of the nightlong celebration feast and of the Creevy brothers really trying to get his autograph; and a lazy day spent on the grass by the lake tossing toast to the giant squid. He could almost feel the rock of the Hogwarts Express as she talked of sharing a compartment with Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna for the train ride home, eating sweets and the now annual hexing of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Harry grinned when she spoke of him coming home to the Burrow finally instead of the Dursley’s.

“Of course, Mum says that it is just until you can get on your feet and start your Auror training, but you know that you can always call it home.” Harry felt Ginny squeeze his hand at that, and he suddenly felt the need to interrupt her.

“Ginny,” he said softly even though the common room was again miraculously empty.

“Yeah?” Ginny seemed a bit startled as he had grown less inclined to interrupt her with more than an occasional snort or soft laugh as she had gotten further and further into her story.

“Erm, I don’t think that I want to be an Auror after this.” He paused and took a deep breath as she quietly waited for him to continue. “I want to play Quidditch.”

Ginny raised her other hand and brushed the fringe back from Harry’s forehead. She leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss on his temple, before whispering in his ear, “Okay, Harry.”

Harry would have raised his hand to touch the small patch of skin on his forehead where Ginny’s lips had been, but at the moment he really did not want to disentangle his fingers from hers. The gentle flutter of her breath against his ear had raised goose bumps all down his arm. And it struck him how brilliant Ginny would look flying her broom in the warm summer sun in the pick up Quidditch game at the Burrow she was describing.

Ginny had given up even trying to return to her dorm room to sleep each night and Harry took an increasing amount of comfort in waking up to her usually sleeping form curled under his head. He always slept with his wand these days and he had taken to Summoning his glasses as soon as he woke up, so he could just look at the peace on her face without waking her. She had begun to change into her pajamas as well, abandoning all pretenses. As he turned over that morning, loosing his hand from hers, he gazed at her red hair splayed over the sky blue of her pajama top, golden snitches peeking out between her rumpled locks.

This was what hope looked like, he thought as she stirred and grazed her hand across his chest.

“Ginny?” Harry said softly as he laid his own hand over hers pressing it warm to his chest.

“Hmmm?” She raised her head and looked down at him, her eyes still heavy with sleep.

“You wanna go get some breakfast?” He found himself stroking the back of her hand as she nodded. Harry sat up throwing off his blanket and taking the pillow from Ginny’s lap. They rose together and Harry reached out as she turned toward the girls’ staircase, his hand fell on her shoulder stopping her progress. He turned her toward him and with a sleepy stumble she was in his arms. Harry wrapped her in a gentle hug trying to thank her in some small way for what she had given him.

That morning when she had come back down the stairs, dressed and ready for another day of classes, Harry had taken her hand and held it until they reached the door to the Great Hall.

Night after night, Ginny wove her way through stories of summer at the Burrow. There was a graduation party for Harry, Ron and Hermione complete with the twins’ fireworks and some practical jokes on unsuspecting party goers. There were quiet walks and picnics with Ron and Hermione sneaking off in the woods to get in a good snog. There were delicious breakfasts produced by Molly. There was Quidditch training with help from Ginny and Ron. There were visits to the twins at their shop in Diagon Alley. There was Bill and Fleur’s wedding complete with male guests pulling some great stunts to impress her Veela relatives. There was Harry’s eighteenth birthday party. There was even a rainy day when he and Ron had played Wizard’s Chess all day as they listened to the drops of rain lash the windows of the Burrow.

Harry’s eyes closed every night to visions of Ginny smiling at him across the Burrow garden full of friends, or the warm quiet kitchen, or an ice cream sundae in Diagon Alley. She was there with him every night in his now more pleasant dreams, just as she was there with him everyday in their increasingly frightening reality. He would pull her to him every morning sometimes placing a soft kiss on her forehead before they separated to get ready for their day. Minutes later her hand would be in his as they faced their first challenge of breakfast, the mail and the news in the Daily Prophet. It was never easy when bad news came, but it was more bearable with something, someone to hold on to.

One night, after a particularly long meeting with Dumbledore and Lupin in the Headmaster’s office that lasted well past midnight, Harry had climbed through the portrait hole into what he thought was an empty common room. He had not hoped that Ginny was still awake and waiting for him when he had seen the time, and he was wondering if he could relive the story that she had told him the night before and try to find some peaceful sleep. Then he heard a low muffled sob from their couch in front of the fire.

Harry crossed the room in an instant, and found Ginny, her body curled into a tight ball clutching his pillow. Her face was buried in it as her body shook. Harry grabbed her shoulder in alarm, a thousand horrible thoughts running through his head. Her eyes flew up to his face and before he could even get the words out she was in his arms, her tear drenched face buried in the crook of his neck. Harry pulled her close one hand immediately stroking her hair, smoothing it down over and over again.

“Ginny, what happened?” He tried to speak without letting his fear bleed through to her as he mumbled the question against her ear.

“You, you were… you were gone so long.” Ginny was choking out the words between sobs. “I thought that,” she held him tighter, her arms wound round his neck and shoulders; “I thought that it was tonight.” She shuddered in his arms and Harry kissed her forehead knowing exactly what she meant, and murmured against her.

“No, not yet love, not yet.” A part of him thought that he had never called her that before, and that it should have been strange hearing himself use such an endearment, but it wasn’t. He sat on the couch, hauling her down into his lap. He brushed her wet matted hair from her face and then he was kissing her. He tasted the salt of her tears as he kissed her cheeks, her eyes, and her nose. When their lips finally met it was with a fierceness that Harry had not expected from their first kiss, but needed from her all the same. His hands threaded through her long red hair, pulled her, crushed her mouth to his. Her delicate fingers were fisted in his hair and they were frantically exploring each other’s mouths. He wanted to taste her, devour her, consume her with that kiss; make her know how much he needed her.

When they finally pulled away, Harry looked at Ginny’s tear stained face and made a decision. He had never done this before, but he knew that he could. He could do this for her. He could give her back what she had been so graciously imparting to him over the last month. As he cradled her in his arms, he realized that not only could he; but he desperately wanted to do this for her. He rocked her gently as her body still shuddered now and again with weak sobs, and the shadows of thought that had been forming in his mind, thanks to Ginny, became vividly solid and real. She had been holding onto her own fantasies, the ones that she had created for him. He would not allow her to let go of them now. Ginny had created a future for him out of a sheer act of will. She had willed herself to believe, at least for a piece of time everyday that he would triumph over the evil that was pressing in on them from all sides.

Ginny had made him believe that he could win this fight. He saw her stories now as something more than beautiful lies. He saw them now as hopeful promises. She had promised him every night for the past month that there would be a tomorrow for him after it was over. Now it was his turn to make that same promise to her; to promise her, with as much hope as she had given him, he would be there with her in that tomorrow.

Harry leaned over and pulled the blanket from its resting place at the other end of the couch. He wrapped Ginny as she sat huddled in his lap with the blanket as well as his arms. He kissed her lips softly, slowly, and then began his story.

“You are sitting next to my bed in the hospital wing, finishing off one of my chocolate frogs, when you see my eyes open. And the first thing that I do is reach for you…”


~~Fin

A/N: Again all thanks go out to my girls at www.apparitionpoint.com for being my sometimes critics, sometimes betas and all the time friends. LadyTonks, Phoenix, Fid/Glory and ElderFan, you ladies are the best. Many thanks to my readers and reviewers, as well. You guys make it all worth while!

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
(Anonymous)
Aug. 28th, 2005 12:16 am (UTC)
Simply incredible
I cannot begin to describe how wonderful this story is (like all your stories.) This is just indescribably good. There is simply no way that this story could be improved. It is perfect. You are a phenomenal writer and should be very very proud of your work! Thank you very very much for writing and sharing these stories!!

--Desslok
cyclonejuliet
Aug. 29th, 2005 12:44 pm (UTC)
Oh that was excellent. Harry really needs some hope doesn't he, and Ginny is just the person to give him some.
Wonderful .... off to bed for me now too!
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )