Sometimes It Takes a Dream to Wake You Up

11. The cupboard under the stairs

Harry lay awake that night, his only company in the darkness being Ron's soft snoring. It wasn't the snoring keeping him up however. He'd lived with that for four years of dorm life at Hogwarts as well as his visits to the Burrow. Harry was worried. Ginny had now been here in the same house as him for over a day now and he had yet to see her since she fainted, let alone talk to her. Apparently, Hermione and Ginny had taken Mrs. Figgup on an offer of shopping and managed to do so while Harry was in the shower after his talk with Ron. He also managed to miss the girl's return by being in the backyard at that time, and once again Ginny had decided to stay in her room during the evening. At least Ron and Hermione seemed to be getting along now but Hermione was still apparently upset with Harry for some reason and was keeping her interaction with him to a minimum.

Harry could tell that sleep would not be coming any time soon. As quietly as he could, he got out of bed and drew his faded brown robe over his boxers and t-shirt. He made it to the door and out into the hall without waking Ron. Once more he looked at the door of the girl's room with longing. Maybe he should just knock and ask to talk with Ginny? But it was near midnight, and he was doing his best not to push things. If she was avoiding him, and it was difficult to deny she wasn't, he needed to leave her alone. Harry hung his shoulders in silent defeat and almost went back to bed, but he still wasn't sleepy. He decided instead to go downstairs to the kitchen for the proverbial midnightsnack.

Carefully, he walked down the stairs avoiding the steps that creaked. Mrs. Figg's house modifications had not touched the stairwell area. He was quite proud of himself for making no sound whatsoever as he moved from the last step onto the firm hardwood of the first floor landing. He turned down the hall towards the kitchen. As he walked, he noticed a sound growing in his ears. It was someone crying, a girl. As he reached his old cupboard, he was shocked to find it was the source of the crying. There was a dim light coming from the cracks around the door. Harry opened it.

Harry's eyes showed puzzlement as he found Ginny sitting inside on the floor of his cupboard. Her knees were pulled to her chest, the backs of her hands on her knees, and her face pressed into her hands.

"Ginny?" Harry tried to speak as softly as he could and not startle her but still make her hear him.

She looked up, her eyes red, her face distraught and tear-streaked. In one fluid motion, pale colored night clothes and long red hair flying about her like an apparition, she leapt from her sitting position and threw her arms around him. Her face was buried in his neck, and her sobbing was now completely out of control. He awkwardly put his arms around her and tried to give what comfort he could. However, he was utterly out of his league when it came to dealing with a hysterical teen aged girl crying in his arms.

"Ginny, what's wrong? What's happened? Are you alright?"

She only seemed to cry harder at this. He tried twice more to find out what the matter was but gave up and resolved just to hold her gently until she was ready. It may have been five minutes or it may have been over an hour when her sobs started to let up.

She pulled away from him just enough to look into his concerned face, his worried green eyes. Her lower lip began to quiver and threatened more tears. Harry tried to give her a reassuring smile but he imagined it looked more like a grimace. She was scaring the Hell out of him. Maybe he had actually managed a smile, because she smiled back at him and then put her hand on the side of his face, her thumb stroking his cheek.

She sniffed up some tears and talked in a hoarse whisper, "Ron told me ... mum told me ... I didn't want to think about it ... didn't want to believe it."

He took her hand gently in his and pulled it away from his face. It was doing things to him, and he needed to think about her right now. He kept holding it though and took her other hand in his as well.

"Believe what Ginny?"

"They kept you ... in there," She nodded her head towards the open cupboard door, her red rimmed eyes full of horror.

"Oh, that was some time ago, I'm not there anymore, Ginny. It's better now." To himself he added, 'Not a lot, but better.'

"But...but...ten years," she sobbed into his shoulder. She kept talking into his shoulder between tears and gasps for air, "Growing up that way. A little boy shoved into a dirty hole like that. How can you not hate the world? How can you be so completely wonderful?"

Harry was saved from having to respond by a fresh bout of tears from Ginny. Harry hated being pitied more than anything else he could think of. But this didn't feel like pity coming from her. It felt like love? He pulled her closer to him and wrapped her tight in his arms. Her hair smelled like her letters, that soft floral scent. Her body was trembling from the crying but it was warm and comforting to him. He held her, softly rubbing her back.

After the crying diminished again, he spoke softly, "Ginny, I don't know what to say to you. I'm sure it wasn't the best way to grow up but then I didn't know any other. It's all in the past now anyway. It's really alright. Please don't cry over me." 'I need to be the reason for your smiles not your tears.'

They stood there in each others arms, again with no sense of time. Eventually, Ginny stopped crying completely and even smiled slightly to herself when she realized he was about an inch taller than her. She was calm now and thoroughly enjoying being held by him even if he was just trying to comfort his best friend's silly little sister.

The sound of his voice startled her when he spoke again, "They can lock me in there for another ten years if I can hold you like this again."

She stiffened in his arms. The tension between them was suddenly very evident and Harry wondered if he'd said the wrong thing. Knowing himself as he did, probably. After all, Hermione was still mad at him about something for which he had not a clue. She pulled back from him so she could see his face again. Her bloodshot eyes were wide and ... hopeful?

She swallowed hard, "You can hold me whenever you want, Harry."

"Good. Didn't really want to go into that damned cupboard again," he laughed.

Ginny also laughed, stepping away from him. She started wiping at her eyes and straightening her pale dressing gown, "I must look awful."

"I've seen worse," Harry shrugged. She looked at him, not knowing what to make of the comment.

He smiled impishly and waggled his eyebrows, "But I've never seen better."

She rolled her eyes, "If you're going to start teasing me, I'm going to bed."

She turned to leave up the hall to the stairs, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her backwards. She stumbled and he caught her with both hands.

"What are you doing, Harry?!" Ginny was clearly put off about having nearly fallen and the legendary Weasleytemper was in danger of making an appearance. She steadied herself just within arms reach of Harry.

"You said I could hold you whenever I want. So, I want...right now. You've been avoiding me since you got here so I don't really know when I'll get another chance."

"Oh, that," she lowered her eyes, anger deflating.

"Yes, that."

"I was just so embarrassed after I fainted."

"You fainted after looking at me. I thought perhaps you didn't like what you saw, like I was ugly to you or something."

Ginny looked up, panicked, "Oh God, Harry! Of course not! You're gorgeous!"

A wide eyed Ginny put her hand to her mouth as if to try and cram the words back into her head.

Harry stepped just a littlecloser to her with that morsel of encouragement, "So then why be embarrassed?"

"I had this dream about you."

"Oh?" He perked up, 'This might be interesting.'

"In the dream you were much shorter than me, much shorter. It was awful. I know it sounds shallow of me but it was a dream. I can't explain it. Then, when I came around from the flootravel, I didn't realize I was on top of that table when I was looking down at you."

'OK, maybe not that interesting.' "And you thought the dream was becoming real and I was dwarfish?"

"I'm silly, I know."

Harry shrugged, "Short. Tall.Height is important to a lot of people. I can see that it might be upsetting to you. It looks like you and I are actually pretty close in height. I saw a lot of my relatives in a magical mirror during my first year at Hogwarts and I doubt that I'll ever be really tall. Sorry."

"I think you're perfect." Once more Ginny's hand was too slow to shove the words back in her head but she tried.

Harry rolled his eyes with much amusement, "I wouldn't go that far, but there is one advantage I can think of for not being terribly taller than you are."

He reached out and pulled her close to him. His arms closed around her, meeting in the small over back resting on the silky material of her dressing gown. Her hands came to rest on his chest. He swallowed hard and tried to steady his breathing but wasn't succeeding to well as he looked into her huge brown eyes.

"You see how close our lips are? It's quite convenient."

Ginny squeaked in agreement.

"No neck strains. No tiptoes."

She squeaked again. Harry guessed she was agreeing this time too. He knew he was babbling, trying to find that Gryffindor courage that seemed to have gone conspicuously missing.

'Stop being a wanker, Potter. Kiss her.'

"Perhaps the Ministry should step in and pair up all wizards and witches according to height." 'Kiss her!'

"Oh shut up, Harry," and then Ginny pressed her lips to his.

Harry's eyes closed as she kissed him. He kissed her back as slowly and as softly as his inexperienced lip muscles would allow, they trembled from the effort. He didn't think he was quite ready to try tongue just yet but this was so nice, it simply was not an issue. She tasted wonderful. Briefly, he opened one eye and scanned it around to make sure he wasn't back in his bed dreaming. He wasn't, but he knew that before he checked, it was too amazing.

Ginny was having a hard time standing still while they kissed. She was dancing and jumping with delight on the inside. She had kissed him. Which is to say, she had kissed him when it seemed like he was going to stand there gibbering for the rest of the night. And he was kissing her back and doing it well, doing it very, very well. And it was better than the hammock dream, and better than the swimming hole dream, and better than the Yule Ball dream, and better than anything she'd imagined in her waking hours. Briefly, she opened one eye to make sure she wasn't in her bed back at the Burrow dreaming but all was well and so she closed it again.

When they finally parted, the breathing was shallow and fast. They smiled bashfully at each other.

Harry managed to speak first, "So can I do that whenever I want too?"

"Yes, please. Practice makes perfect you know."

He looked at her as if offended, "You said I was perfect."

"You are. I'm the one who needs practice."

"No. You don't." This time he kissed her. It was remarkable how different the second time was from the first. With just the slightest hint of the newness gone, he was now aware of sensations other than her lips on his. He was now conscious of her hands resting lightly on his chest, the sound of her breathing from her perfectly freckled nose, the feel of her body pressed to his, and, of course, that delicious scent of hers.

She was also more aware of him. His arms were holding her to his firm body. His fingers were lightly tickling the base of her spine. His perpetually messy hair, Oh no! How could she have forgotten his hair? She removed her hands from his chest and slipped them from under his arms so that she could now run her fingers through that wondrously thick, blackness. Moving her arms from under his had the added bonus effect of allowing him to crush her body to his even harder.

'He is perfect.'

Harry recalled the dream two nights ago when he had fallen out of bed, 'Yes, I think I very much am.'

But as much as he was enjoying himself, Harry had an absurdly hard problem to deal with. He was holding Ginny so very close, loving her body pressed firmly against his. However, as good as her upper body felt against his, he was very much afraid how his lower body might feel to her. A loose robe and boxers were not suitable for this particular situation. He didn't want to turn this innocent bliss into something else ... tonight anyway. The only solution Harry could think of was a body contortion such that he was bent with his chest as far forward against her and his pelvis positioned as far away from her as humanly possible. It was not very comfortable but still very enjoyable.

Enjoyable for about half an hour anyway, then those muscles of his lower back and upper legs that had to do extra work from the contortion became exhausted and began to shudder. Finally, they gave out completely and Harry lost his balance into Ginny and they both fell into the open cupboard door closing it with a slam.

"I'm so sorry! Are you alright?!" As loudly as the door had closed, Harry was worried he'd really hurt her.

Ginny started laughing, trying to keep a reasonable volume for the time of night but failing, "Yes, I'm fine, nice to see you clumsy around me for once."

The clock at the end of the hall struck three. Three already?

Harry looked from the clock back to Ginny, "It's really late now. We should go to bed."

"Yours or mine?" she cocked an eyebrow.

"I - I didn't - I mean, I want -"

She put a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle, "Oh and I can make you stutter now too. I am going to enjoy this."

Harry grinned like a maniac as it dawned on him that there she was, very literally, the girl of his dreams. This "new" Ginny, standing so close to him, was bold, sensitive, playful, funny, sweet, and wicked beautiful. She had probably always been there but either she'd never shown her true self to him or he'd never bothered to really look. Whichever, he was going to enjoy it as well.

"Take it easy on me, Ginny. You're my first girlfriend."

Her amusement with him had instantly given way to shock, "Your - Your girlfriend?!"

'Yep, a little of the "old" Ginny was still there too.' "Oh, I see. Just a quick snog and run off then? I knew it was too good to last," Harry shoved out his lower lip in an obscenely exaggerated pout.

"Shut up, Harry," and she kissed him once more, quick but hard. "Girlfriend, hmm? Some day you will ask me properly?" It was half question, half demand.

"Some day," he smiled.

"Right then, back to sleep we go." Ginny doubted she'd be sleeping for a long time to come.

They walked up the stairs hand in hand and kissed once more before she disappeared behind the closed door of the girl's room. Harry had just started to turn away when he heard what could only be described as how it would sound through a panel door if a fourteen year old girl were to put both hands over her mouth as a muffle and scream at the top of her lungs in sheer delight. He had to bite back is own happy sound as he entered his room.

"What's going on, Harry? Everything alright?" Ron asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

"Yes, I had a talk with Ginny," Harry doffed his robe and made for his bed. 'And a kiss or four!'

"Is she OK? Was she very upset?"

"She's fine."

"So she took it well? No more crush business?"

"She took it quite well. No more crush," true enough. She had taken the night's events very well and a crush was, by definition, a one way infatuation. Ginny's and Harry's feelings were very mutual.

"Thanks, Harry."

Harry felt just a slight twinge of guilt directed towards Ron but he was honestly too happy and too tired to give a damn.

'Snogging is bloody wonderful but it wears you out.'