All That You Require

All That You Require

Harry Potter was agitated as he paced back and forth in the hallway, willing the door to the Room of Requirement to appear for him. He wasn't quite sure what he needed, apart from a quiet place to sort out his feelings of frustration and anger. It seemed he was always angry lately, and it only made him more so to be unable to determine if the anger was his own, or if Voldemort was subtly feeding it into his very mind through the link that they shared. He didn't give the room specific instructions, but just willed it to figure out for itself was he required above all else. Finally, a large wooden door appeared where only a stone wall had been before, and he sighed with relief; surely the door wouldn't have appeared if the room hadn't been able to determine what it was that he needed. He stepped forward and opened the door cautiously; curious as to what was going to waiting for him on the other side.

He stepped inside to find a cozy room with a roaring fire, and two large armchairs facing each other in front of its warmth. There was a low table between the chairs that held a tea tray and some biscuits, and Harry stepped forward to inspect everything. He had thought that he needed someplace quiet to think, and it looked as though he had gotten his wish. He walked toward one of the large chairs, and his heart gave a huge thump in his chest when he noted that the chair that had been sitting with it's back to the door wasn't empty.

"Ginny?" He said in surprise.

"What am I doing here, Harry?" she asked quietly. She was wearing her cloak as though she had been outside recently, and there were small droplets of water on it, as though the lazily falling snow had landed on it and then melted. She had her book bag in her lap. She didn't look surprised to find herself here so much as concerned. "I was on my way back from Care of Magical Creatures class, and then suddenly I was sitting here."

"I... I don't know," Harry said. He was confused now. "You're in the Room of Requirement, but I'm not sure why."

"Maybe there's something that you require that I can help you with," she said calmly. "What do you require, Harry?"

Harry blew the air from his lungs tiredly and went to sit in the chair across from her. In the past year she had become a good friend, especially when Ron and Hermione had finally begun to date, and he often excused himself from various outings to give them time alone. Ginny had taken him under her wing and helped him to feel like he wasn't the third wheel that he sometimes felt like. He didn't know when he had begun to feel more than friendship for his best friend's little sister, but feelings he had, nonetheless. He had never dared to tell her for fear of ruining what they already had, and wondered if he'd ever feel safe sharing those particular feelings at all.

"I don't know what I require anymore, Ginny," he said honestly. "I guess what I wanted when I conjured the room, was for it to figure that out for me so that I wouldn't have to. When I opened the door, here you were."

"How were you feeling when you came looking for the room?" she asked. Harry was usually so closed off from others lately, that she was surprised and pleased that he finally seemed willing to talk to her - to anyone - about the load he carried on his shoulders every day.

"Angry," he answered. "But that's nothing new. I guess I was angry that I'm always so angry. Does that make sense?"

She nodded gently and said, "Sure. Sometimes an emotion takes a hold of you, and you're caught in its grip for so long that it just becomes a habit."

"It's kind of like that," Harry said. "But there's more to it than that. I'm not sure if the anger inside of me is even mine. How can I tell? If it isn't all mine, then how do I get it out?"

"You're afraid that he's doing this to you," Ginny said. It wasn't a question. "You think that he's deliberately channeling his anger into you to corrupt you from the inside."

Harry's nod was barely perceptible as he stared into the flames of the fire. Ginny sat forward, unclasping her cloak and dropping her book bag to the floor. She poured them both some tea, leaving him to think for a few moments about everything. When she saw his brow begin to furrow, and it seemed to her that he was beginning to brood more than ruminate, she broke the silence.

"Let's make a list."

"A list of what?"

"A list of the things that you feel angry about," she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She didn't give him time to protest, but simply rummaged in her bag for a quill, ink and parchment. As she thought that she could use something to lean on for writing, a lap desk appeared across her knees and she grinned. "That's handy."

"I don't know if this is such a great idea," Harry said reluctantly.

"Nonsense," Ginny answered, unwilling to let him withdraw himself emotionally from this. "The room brought me here for a reason, so it must be a good idea."

He lifted an eyebrow at what he saw to be her skewed logic, but finally sighed and gestured for her to continue. He sincerely hoped he didn't regret this, because he hadn't mastered memory charms very well if he wanted to make her forget anything he said during this... session.

"Okay, Harry," she said, quill poised about parchment. "What makes you the angriest?"

"Losing Sirius," he said immediately. That would certainly come as no shock to her, even though it had been more than a year since he had fallen through the veil, but she diligently wrote it down in her neat script. "Voldemort. Dumbledore's damned half-truths. Why can't the man just give a straight answer for once?"

Ginny made no comment at his angry outburst toward the headmaster and simply dipped the quill and added his complaint to the parchment.

"Professor Snape," Harry spat. He had managed to make it into NEWT level potions, but his hatred toward the other man was eating at him every time they were forced to be in close proximity to each other. Luckily he had not been forced to endure further Occlumency lessons with the man. "I don't care if he's on our side. I don't care if he sprouts bloody wings from his shoulder blades and sports a halo over his head; I hate him."

Ginny felt like sighing, but kept silent as she added the unpleasant professor to the list that was steadily growing.

"Bellatrix Lastrange. Draco Malfoy. The Dursleys. People being afraid of me. The lies that kept everyone from believing in his return; being kept in the dark all the time when I'm supposed to... supposed to..." Harry paused, not knowing what was keeping him from continuing.

Ginny halted in her writing and looked up at him with sad eyes, waiting to see if he would finally come to the crux of the matter.

"The prophecy." Harry finally whispered. He felt as though he were a corked bottle about to either blow it's top or explode, and wiped furiously at his eyes as the tears formed in them. He fought hard against the dam that he could feel cracking inside of him, and had nearly mastered himself when he heard the four words that he had come here for; the four simple words that he required.

"Harry," Ginny said softly, setting the lap desk aside and kneeling in front of him. "Let it go."

The dam burst, and the first sob tore through him like a dull knife. It hitched in his chest and then poured from him all at once, followed by another, and then another. Ginny said nothing at all, but simply gathered him close as he fell to his knees in front of her, her own tears falling into his hair as she cradled him. The storm raging inside of him had broken after a long period of heavy black clouds, and Ginny ran her hand over his back in small circles, waiting it out while her heart broke for him once again. She knew that he needed this; had needed this for at least the past two years, and while it tore at her soul to hear it, she was glad that the pressure of all of his pent up feelings had found some release.

She didn't know how much time had passed when his shoulders stilled their shaking and the last of the sobs dried up. Harry had, in the course of his grief, gradually ended up lying on the soft rug with is head in Ginny's lap, and now lay still, gazing unseeingly into the fire. His face was red and wet, and Ginny gently reached down to remove his glasses, and pressed a handkerchief that had appeared nearby into his hand so that he could wipe at his eyes and nose. She silently ran her fingers through his hair in a gesture of calm and comfort, and smiled when she saw his eyes begin to drift closed.

"I'm sleepy," he mumbled unnecessarily, wiping at his nose.

"I'll bet," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Do you want to stay here, or shall we go back to Gryffindor tower?"

"We should go back," he sighed. His voice was rough and just a bit nasally sounding. "But I really don't want to move."

"Then don't," she said. "Classes are over for the day, and it's Friday; you could conceivably stay here until Monday morning if you wanted to."

He chuckled at that a bit, but made no move to stand as Ginny continued to stroke his hair, then sobered and said, "We never figured it out. If the anger was all mine."

"No we never did," she agreed, not so much as pausing in her gentle finger combing. "What do you think the answer is?"

"I don't know," he said, thinking about it. "I suppose that a lot of it is mine. I've kept it in for so long, that I just couldn't cope with it anymore."

"You do have a lot of things to be angry about," Ginny said practically. "The trick is to not be angry about them all at once."

"Easier said than done," he said ruefully, more awake now, but feeling drugged by the rhythmic pull of Ginny's fingers in his hair.

"Maybe," she agreed. "But you have a lot of friends to share the load."

"I don't like to be a burden," he said immediately. "My friends are already in danger just for being my friends."

"Than it won't endanger them any more than they already are," she said sensibly. "They want to help you, Harry. I want to help you. Pushing the people who love you away isn't going to take away the danger, and it's not going to make you feel any better. It's not a burden when it's carried willingly and gladly."

"I suppose," Harry didn't sound totally convinced.

"One of the things you said made you angry was being told half truths and being kept in the dark, right?" Ginny challenged him, finally stopping her stroking so that he would look up at her.

"Yes," he answered cautiously.

"I think that you have every reason to be angry about those things," she told him. "So why do you do it to your friends?'

"Because...." He began automatically. He stopped then, and sat up to face her. "That was sneaky."

"Exactly."

He looked at her thoughtfully for a while, and then said, "Okay. I'll try. I'll try to talk out my feelings with you or Ron or Hermione."

"That's all I ask," she smiled.

"Ginny?" he said suddenly.

"Yes, Harry?"

"I want to share some of my feelings with you right now," he said, pushing himself to his feet and giving Ginny a hand up. "The first one being profound gratitude. I feel better right now than I have since my fourth year."

"And the second?" she asked, taking her book bag and cloak from him as he picked them up off the floor.

"I think I'll save that one for later," he smiled down at her. "I don't know if you're ready for that one yet." He took her hand in his as they left the Room of Requirement and watched the door melt away into the stone wall, it's task completed. Harry had found what he required, and walked away with her, hand in hand.