Harry is with me (Harry Potter Fanfiction)

Harry is with me

A/N: I wrote this for Metamorphagus's Writing Contests and Challanges, Contest #2

"Write a one-shot about how Ginny felt the first few days after Harry saved her in the Chamber of Secrets. You can write this in the form of Diary, or not. The important thing is that it's her perspective."

Just a fact. Enjoy!

~Anony

Dear Diary,

So...I am writing in a regular diary for the first time. And the only reason I am doing this is because Mum took me to a healer after the you-know-what. The Healer, Mr. Strout, suggested writing in a diary because it helps to deal with trumatic experiances. Actually he suggested other things too. Like singing, dancing, art, screaming, crying and talking to Harry, because "he's probably going through the same thing ".

Singing and dancing isn't my type of thing. Nor is art. It used to be. I used to picture Harry in my mind when I was younger and draw him. He isn't that tall or muscular as I drew him but he still is...cute. And brave. But after the Chamber, I am not sure if I am interested in drawing anymore.

I am not sure about anything, actually. I still don't get it why I trusted that diary. In hindsight, it seems stupid that I was writing, and getting attached, to a diary that responded back. That is partly the reason I was reluctant to start another diary. It took mum and dad nearly a week to coax me into writing down in this.

Speaking of which, I think mum and dad don't trust me much anymore. They often come to my room to see what I am doing. And some of their excuses are so lame. I am finding it hard to trust myself, and if they don't trust me neither...

It hurts.

If nobody trusts me, how am I supposed to heal? Ron is behaving as if I am some delicate porcelain something and Fred and George are being really silent around me. And Percy. Percy is beating himself up because apparantly mum had asked him to keep an eye on me while I was at Hogwarts. And yet I got in so much trouble because he was busy snogging Penelope Clearwater at whatever free time he got. And Bill and Charlie have sent me about twenty letters each, asking the same question at least once in every letter.

"Are you fine?" and "What are you doing now, Gin?"

I am depressed and I am losing my marbles. That's what they all think and believe when they ask me such questions. I am already feeling guilty that I put Harry and Ron's life in danger. The-Boy-Who-Lived and my own brother! I cry whenever I think about it. Daily! Everyone says they know I didn't do it on purpose but they behave as if I did. What else am I supposed to do! I don't feel safe around myself. I want to be with people without all of them thinking that I'll drop dead or go bonkers or burst into tears any minute.

The only thing that used to soothe me when I was agitated, before the Chamber episode, was to sleep. It was always bliss and often took me to other worlds and parallel universes. And now I am having nightmares, ruining my peace. I don't remember most of them but it still leaves a feeling of dread and guilt. The rest of them all have blood, basilisk, you-know-who, dead Ron, and dead Harry.

Harry.

We chatted for a couple of minutes when we were returning home from Hogwarts, in the Hogwarts Express. Well, not exactly chatted. He did all the talking. I was only nodding and shaking my head and grunting. Merlin, I cannot be more embarrassed about a conversation I had than that one. I was blushing the whole time. What must Harry think of me?

Anyway, it was private. (Private! You get one chance to speak with him, and you have to go tomato red and stutter. Good job, Ginny. Good job.) Fred and George had gone to see Lee, and Ron had to go to the loo. Percy had to brief the prefects and kiss Penny on the way, so he was out too. Hermione, well, she said she had to go see a friend but I think she left to give me a chance. I think.

Harry is soo sweet. He said the Chamber was not my fault and, as Dumbledore has already told me, You-Know-Who has hoodwinked many clever witches and wizards. I didn't have much chance. He was polite and kind when he said this. A bit awkward too.

Probably because of me.

He saved my life. At the age of twelve. He is a hero. And if it doesn't sound too, weird, I'd like to say he is my hero. He risked his own life to save mine. Even when he didn't have to.

And he does not think I am losing it. He believes me. I should take whatever support I get, I suppose. And I have a feeling he isn't having so much trouble with what happened at the end of last term as I have. Or he is hiding it. Or he is used to it.

If he can, then why can't I? I'll try my best.

After all, Harry Potter is with me.

No, Harry is with me. I am not alone.

Bye,
Ginny Weasley

P.S I just woke up from a nap, and I had no bad dreams. In fact, I saw Harry. And I wasn't blushing or shrieking or stuttering. We were having a normal conversation. And that's saying something. I've decided to draw it in my sketchbook before I forget it. Also, Mum asked me if I wanted to learn a few simple cooking tricks, and I thought, why not?