Lost

It was not a particularly hot summer but 12 Grimmauld Place felt scorched; burnt out. Ginny wondered if it was a house which reflected its occupant's feelings. She felt wilted, like an old dried out flower and she longed for Outside. She, Hermione and Ron followed the strange draughts around the house, trying to listen discreetly to what the adults said in their meetings. Harry was mentioned a lot.

Despite their eavesdropping, they did not know that Harry had arrived until Ron said goodnight to the girls, opened his bedroom door, and shouted with surprise. There was a cry from inside and a thump. When Ginny peeked around the door, Harry lay in a heap beside his bed, glaring blearily at Ron.

He wasn't very talkative; he asked for news and when Ron told him the little he knew he suddenly looked even more tired and crawled back into bed.

Ginny shut the door behind her as she left and told herself that she didn't care.

It was harder this summer to shut Harry out - or at least, to shut him from her heart. Perhaps it was because they had been closer at school, because she didn't act like a little girl around him anymore. Perhaps it was because something about Harry made you believe that all you wanted to do was protect him. Whatever the reason was, she could not take her eyes off him. He was not particularly striking (other than those eyes) and his presence didn't announce itself when he walked into a room but nonetheless, Ginny always managed to find him in that great big house.

He'd always had a bad temper and now he swung between extremes of mood, prompting Tonks to whisper to Ginny that he had male PMT. Ginny giggled and Harry glared at them both. Ron grabbed hold off Harry's arm and dragged him off to help with the dishes. Five minutes later, Ginny and Hermione went into the kitchen to find the radio blaring and Ron and Harry laughing so hard no sound left their mouths.

"What have you been doing?" asked Hermione, sounding half amused, half exasperated. Unlike last year, it was Harry who caught Ginny's eye and looked away, grinning and shaking his head, taking off his glasses and wiping the tears from his eyes. It was times like this that Ginny loved her brother very much.

Harry slept erratically. Ron did not tell her this, but she knew it because she couldn't sleep. Sometimes she'd be watching Harry so much and so hard that she'd feel the itch on his back that he couldn't reach, or the sickening twist in his stomach when he looked at Mrs Black's portrait or the tapestry in the drawing room.

One night, Ginny went downstairs at one o'clock in the morning and found Harry in the kitchen.

"I was thirsty," he said defensively.

The next night he said he thought he'd heard a noise.

On the third night he looked her in the eye and said bluntly, "I can't sleep".

"Neither can I," said Ginny. Harry nodded and after an awkward moment, he slipped past her. She did not hear his footsteps on the stairs so she went into the parlour. Harry lay on the sofa and did not look up when she entered the room, nor when she stood over him. He stared instead at a huge portrait on the other side of the room. Mrs Black stood next to a man with a dark eyes and a boy with Sirius' nose. One side of the portrait had been blasted away and the remainder of the Black family glared down at them.

"Do you want to talk?" she asked quietly. Harry shook his head. Leave, she thought. He doesn't need you, he doesn't want you, just go.

Harry pulled his legs up and Ginny sat next to him, his toes pressing into her leg. She resisted the urge to pick up his legs and lay them across hers.

She was tired of this. She'd tried being a normal teenager, with a not-so steady boyfriend and hobbies and friends... And somehow, by trying to be normal, she'd found herself closer to Harry and his world. They weren't normal, neither of them, but they both desperately wanted to be.

She could not keep being chained to him. Nothing, she thought despairingly, ever changes. It just gets bigger and more complicated.

"You're going to be alright Harry," she said softly, not sure if she believed it (but, oh Merlin, she wanted to).

"I know," said Harry. He pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes, pushing his glasses up his forehead. "I just want to sleep, and forget everything for..." He sighed. "Until I am alright." He dragged his hands up his forehead, pulling the skin around his eyes tight. She'd never noticed how his eyes were almond shaped before nor how the skin around them was fragile and slightly pink.

Ginny picked up his legs and lay them across her own. He stared across the room at the portrait of the Blacks. She stared at him.

Lost.