Hold On

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Screaming - a woman's voice. She's pleading with someone. A high cold laugh, a laugh terribly familiar. 


"Harry! Harry!" Another voice, warm and concerned and husky with sleep is calling him, shaking his shoulders, and he blinks awake to find Ginny leaning over him, her red hair a tangle of curls as she stares at him worriedly.
He reaches a hand up and feels his face wet with tears. Her eyes are welling up to, and he pulls her down on top of him and holds her close, rubbing her back soothingly and trying desperately not to cry into her shoulder.
"Who was it this time?" She murmurs as she props herself up onto her elbows so she can look at him.
"My mother," he whispers.
Ginny strokes his hair back from his sweaty forehead and traces the faint outline of the lightning scar that is still there after all these years.
"Oh Harry... I wish..."
"I know," he says, kissing her hand as it moves to cup his face. "I know."
And then she is kissing him, and he can't think about anyone except Ginny, and the taste of her lips and the feel of her warm body pressed to his. Then she pulls away and slides off him, lying on her back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling of the room they share.
"I love you, Harry," She murmurs after a while.
"I love you too, Ginny," he replies.
They find each other's hands in the darkness, and hold on.

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