A Cold Winter's Night

A Cold Winter's Night

Harry Potter sat by the Gryffindor fire on a cold December night. He stared into the flickering flames, which hid his emerald green eyes in shadows. Deep in his eyes there were demons that would not go away. No matter how hard he tried to forget, they would continue to eat him alive until he died. The Demons always came back stronger at night, and the most he would get would be a couple hours of rest before he would be awakened by visions from the Dark Lord or nightmares.

This was Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Usually, he would be concentrating on ordinary things, such as schoolwork for example. Harry snorted; exactly when was his life normal? He put the book, which he was supposed to be reading for research in Defense Against the Dark Arts, on the side table without even glancing at the title on the green cover with gold lining on its binder.

Shadows crawled around him and through him, though if one looked closely there would be a shadow on his heart that would never completely vanish. Harry's emerald, almond shaped eyes deadened to an icy look. The flames continued to flicker. Sometimes he could swear he saw shapes in it, but brushed it off as his imagination.

A cold wind came through the crack in the window that a careless fourth year had forgotten to close. The cold didn't bother Harry; he was used to it by now. His heart would always be cold.

Harry had advanced far beyond the normal level for his studies. Members of the Order were training him in different moves and styles with Godric Gryffindor's sword in order to defeat the Dark Lord. Harry had just followed their instructions while not getting close to any of his teachers. Ron and Hermione had grown tired of his endless excuses for not being able to be with them, so they gave up on the matter and went their own way, while Harry went his.

There were some nights, when he was doing research in the library, that he could feel someone's eyes watching him. Normally he would shrug it off and continue with his work. Once he almost caught the culprit when he was looking in the Curses section of the library, but they had disappeared before he looked around the corner.

Glancing at his new watch, he saw that it was ten o'clock. Making up his mind, Harry went up stairs and grabbed his Invisibility Cloak.

Walking like a wraith cloaked in shadow, Harry slithered to the Restricted Section of the Library, which Madam Pince had locked. As he slipped under the rope he caught a glimpse of Ginny Weasley checking out books for her O.W.L. studies. His heart started to beat faster but Harry quenched it quickly and ruthlessly. He told himself that he had no time for feelings anymore, that his only purpose in life was to bring down the Dark Lord. That was what a weapon was supposed to do...conquer and destroy, without hesitation.

He moved further into the Restricted Section, near the back of the library, and lit his wand, which emitted a soft light. These books were covered with dust and some of the titles were in ancient writing which Harry couldn't read. Some books Harry could tell hadn't been touched in years.

Harry searched the Restricted Section thoroughly without finding anything very useful. Giving up hope, he put on his Invisibility Cloak so that it covered him and moved with the shadows. When he was almost at the end of one shelf, he saw something that stopped him dead in his tracks. It was Ginny, but she was dressed in a white t-shirt and a denim skirt. The skirt clung tightly to her curves at her waist - Harry stared at her a moment longer. By the looks of it, she was searching thoroughly for something.

Harry hadn't really looked at Ginny Weasley in a while, since he had exiled himself off from everyone else that was important in his life. A weapon wasn't supposed to be close to anyone, lest they get in his way. Harry had become emotionless throughout the school year. Everyone had ignored it since they all assumed that this was his way of grieving over Sirius. Harry forced those unbidden memories back into the dark corner of his mind.

He shook his head, trying to clear it of those thoughts. In the summer, he had stayed at Hogwarts while he practiced with the Order on defeating Voldemort. Harry had successfully locked his emotions away. Oh, sure whenever people were about he would act normal for their sake. Some Order members would even try to speak about Sirius...about that night. Everyone had told him that it wasn't his fault.

Harry snorted softly. They would say sympathetic things like: It wasn't your fault Harry. You couldn't have known. Or even worse... No one blames you for it, Harry. He knew that was a downright lie. Though they said that they never blamed him for hisdeath, Harry knew that deep down inside they did blame him but were too afraid to show it.

There was one person who hadn't said any of those things. She would willingly come over to Hogwarts to check-up on him (and not upon Mrs. Weasley's request); Harry was startled that she actually understood him. She was Ginevra Molly Weasley, youngest of seven and the only daughter to be born in generations. Ginny had accepted without a question and had listened to him while never pushing him with endless questions. One rainy day, Harry had been cooped up inside of Hogwarts and had been looking through the books in the library. Ginny was visiting him again. Suddenly without knowing why, Harry had told her the prophecy. He had expected her to look at him with disgust or, worse, pity. Instead, she had accepted his fate without flinching from him or crying for him. She had accepted the fact that either he was going to be killed or be a murderer.

They had become closer than Ron and Hermione were, not romantically of course but as friends. Over the summer holidays, Lord Voldemort had struck her down with the Cruciatus Curse and Bellatrix had stunned Harry. They had gone to pick up their stationary and supplies for the school year in Diagon Alley. Harry had been helpless while he had watched her suffer in pain. Bellatrix Lestrange had put him in a full-body bind and he couldn't even move to take the pain of the curse from her. Her screams still haunted his nightmares. Order members had rescued them but after that incident Harry had distanced himself away from her while successfully hiding his emotions. Ron had blamed him for not being able to protect her thoroughly and didn't speak to him. Hermione had tried to reconcile both of them but she either had to stay with Harry or with Ron. Harry made her go with Ron. He had discovered that his only weakness was Ginny because whenever she was near, all of those emotions would come back in a rush...

Harry shook his head and slipped behind the bookcase near her and heard Ginny muttering about a Potions essay that was due the next morning. Moving into the shadows, he once again became cold and emotionless. The library was filled with shadows since Madam Pince had doused the candles. Glancing back he saw that Ginny had lit her wand and that it had emitted a faint glow of light that caused her hair to appear to be on fire.

He knew that he shouldn't have shown weakness around her, since a weapon wasn't supposed to feel weak. Harry moved like a gust of wind with the shadows and paced gradually closer to watch her finger run over the spines of the books. Since he was under his Invisibility Cloak, he was not worried about being discovered. Ginny held her lit wand in her free hand, and the light it cast illuminated her concentrated expression. She had put her hair up in its usual ponytail that fell over her shoulder.

Suddenly Harry saw her spin around, "Who's there?" He saw her brown eyes searching the aisle and land upon him.

"Harry, you can take off the Invisibility Cloak now." Harry saw a grin tugging on her face.

He blinked in surprise. How in Merlin's name had she known that it was him? He was right in front of her and felt her eyes burn into his. "Harry if you're going to stare at me at least show yourself." Harry took off the cloak, and allowed it to flitter to the floor.

"Ginny," he whispered. His emerald green eyes found her brown ones that stared through him, in a way that even Professor Dumbledore's couldn't. Tons of emotions flowed through his body as he stared into those warm brown eyes. Warmth that he could not even dream to obtain...

Harry broke his gaze from her and stared at a random book that was on the shelf. He suddenly felt naked when he stared into her eyes, from which lately he felt that he couldn't tear himself away. As his eyes clouded into shadow, he felt her fingers touch his face gently. Slowly his eyes found hers again and he stared down into them. In an instant, Harry knew that she accepted him and the shadows that he would always carry.

He sucked in a breath, as her fingers traced his scar but she didn't say a word about it. Harry was startled that she accepted his scar as simply just another part of him...he was shaking and he tried to stop it.

"Ginny - " Harry tried to talk but she placed a finger on his lips to silence him and her other hand on his right shoulder.

"Shhh," Ginny whispered. His shaking eased. To steady himself, he placed his hands on her shoulders. Harry felt like he needed to touch her face, to make sure that she was real...

So, he gently began to trace her face with his fingers. He heard her take in a sharp breath. "Harry..." he heard her whisper. Immediately, he stopped, thinking that she didn't want his dirty, tainted fingers touching her face. He slowly started to withdraw, but Ginny's right arm caught his left and stopped it. He saw her close her eyes.

"Harry, don't stop, please." Startled, Harry did as she asked. He knew that this was dangerous, that this was just the trap he had been fighting with himself not to fall into, but he couldn't deny it anymore: he needed her, needed her touch, her smile, her understanding, and the fact that she needed him too, something that was clearly written on her face.

She pulled closer into him, nuzzling into his chest and squeezing him tight, and Harry nearly groaned because of the emotional dam burst this was causing inside his heart. For so long he had been tempering himself, like a blacksmith would a prized blade, conditioning himself not to feel, since a weapon had no feelings. Now, though, he was feeling so much, and while some of it wasn't as pleasant as others it inexplicably made him feel very strong, causing him to hold Ginny to him tighter.

Ginny moved her head away from his shoulder, although she kept her body close to his. For a long time they simply stared at each other, taking in the shadowed features peering so intently at them, and then Ginny leaned in and kissed him, very gently.

The kiss wasn't long or passionate really, but it was soft, and tender, and full of feeling, and exactly what both needed to feel at that moment. Harry shuddered with his eyes closed, the sensations and feelings welling up in him almost overwhelming after having been so isolated, so alone, so cold for so long. Then he opened his eyes and smiled at her.

It was the first genuine smile he had given in a very long time, but Ginny nearly cried when she saw it, because it was just the one she remembered, the one that made his face light up and seemed to instill a strange, restless energy into his entire body. His eyes flashed, and although he wasn't actually moving, his hair seemed suddenly to be in constant motion. Then he leaned down and kissed her.

It was longer this time, and slightly more desperate, but there was even more feeling, and it was still so very gentle that Ginny felt light-headed when they parted again, and as though she might just float off into the sky. Instead, she closed her eyes, smiled and hugged Harry as tightly as she could, wanting to feel as close to him as she could. Harry picked up the cloak that had fallen to the floor, wrapped it round the two of them, and they started out for Gryffindor tower.

In the end, Harry knew that what he had come to find on a cold winter's night in the Hogwarts library was not a book, but something that no book, no matter how magical, could provide for him: human warmth and kindness, and the knowledge that he not only had a cause worth dying for, but a purpose to live for.

End