50 Song Challenge- Harry Potter

1. It's Raining Again- Skyler Gray/Holly Brook

Song: It's Raining Again- Skyler Gray/Holly Brook

Pairing: Harry/Ginny

It’s raining again

Tell me something I don’t know

This place can make you dizzy

Ginny sits at the top of the stairs. She hugs her faded pink dressing gown to her chest, her hair dripping down her back from the shower she just took. She leans her head against the peeling wallpaper beside her, warm and bright like the rest of The Burrow. She closes her eyes, and just listens.

Downstairs, the living room is filled with members of The Order. Her father is probably sitting in his worn armchair, his stubbly chin resting on a freckled hand, shaking his head in dismay at the latest move by the Death Eaters. Her mother will be passing round cups of tea, ever her faithful remedy.

Bill and Fleur, so soon to be married, are most likely sitting side by side on the couch, Fleur’s pretty blonde head resting on Bill’s shoulder as they pretend to be older than they are. The twins are in there, probably with their backs against the wall. Ginny supposes they’re probably tossing in the odd joke in an attempt to lighten the mood, like they always do. But on second thoughts, she thinks that now isn’t like it always used to be. Everything’s changing. She’s only fifteen years old, but she can see what’s going on. She isn’t an idiot.

She sits on these stairs because her mother sent her to bed, told her she was too young to hear these horrible stories. But Ginny knows they’re not just stories. They’re real life. Her life. And she can’t ignore that.

Mum lets Harry, and Hermione and even Ron listen in. They are all seated on cushions next to Kingsley and Remus and Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody. It frustrates her, everyone treating her like a five year old. How quickly they forget. Out of all her many siblings, she is the one who truly knows what Voldemort is like. She is the one who was possessed, whose body and freedom was taken over by him at the age of eleven. The only one who could possibly understand is Harry, who has faced him more times than any of the rest of the Order.

And it’s for this reason, more than anything else, that she knows she has to help defeat him. She has to be a part of it all. Not for the glory, not even because it’s the right thing to do. Because she has to triumph over the man- no, he is not a man- who erased her eleventh year. She needs to get revenge.

What was Dumbledore’s Army if she can not fight? What was theBattleat the Ministry a mere month ago? What was the promise she made to herself and her friends that she would defy Umbridge, defy the Ministry, defy Voldemort? It was all nothing, meaningless if she could not follow it through.

And she is a Gryffindor, a Weasley, a strong and determined girl. It doesn’t matter to her what the adults tell her to do. It doesn’t matter that they think she is too young, too naïve, too precious and incapable. It doesn’t even matter that they’ve all neglected to remember that Harry was only eleven the first time he came face to face with Voldemort.

Ginny opens her eyes and stands up. The stairs beneath her creak as she descends them, but she doesn’t care if her parents hear. She is going to fight; she will prove it to them. At the bottom of the stairs, she pushes the living room door open and swiftly steps inside. The room falls silent, and everyone inside turns their attention to her.

“Ginny, dear, what on earth are you doing down here?” exclaims Mrs. Weasley, rising from her armchair.

“Yes, you should be in bed, love,” chimes in Mr. Weasley. “It’s very late.”

“Ginny, do as mum and dad say,” says Bill, his arm around Fleur.

“But, please-” Ginny starts, her arms folded across her chest determinedly.

“No, this is far too confidential,” barks Moody. “Only members of the Order can hear it, I’m afraid.”

“Well, you let Ron, Hermione and Harry hear it-”

“Yeah, well we’re older!” adds Ron, sounding smug.

“Hardly! You’re only a year-”

“A year can make all the difference,” murmurs Lupin softly, staring fixedly at his knees as though he doesn’t want to be a part of it.

“It doesn’t make any difference at all!” says Ginny, feeling an unwelcome lump begin to rise at the back of her throat.

“Ginny’s right you know.” The room falls silent at Harry’s words. His cheeks are blushing red, but he is sitting forward, and looking right at Ginny. “When I was her age I faced Voldemort in the graveyard. If I can do it, so can Ginny.”

“Well, I hardly think it’s quite the same thing,” begins Mrs. Weasley.

“Please, Mum,” cuts in Ginny, the lump in her throat gone. “I just want to help. I want this over just as much as you do! And I’m more than capable, you know that.”

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchange wary glances, Mr. Weasley pushing his glasses up his nose.

“We’re just worried about you, dear,” he says, and exhaustion fills his voice. “If something were to happen to you, we’d never forgive ourselves. You remember what happened in your first year…”

So I was wrong, thinks Ginny, they didn’t forget it all so quickly. She sighs, and looks up at her father. His bright orange hair is thinning rapidly, and his freckled skin is so pale. Large purple circles encompass his blue eyes. This war is taking its toll on them all.

“Dad, something’s going to happen to me whether I fight or not,” Ginny reasoned. “Something’s going to happen to us all. Either we win, or we lose. And we need as many people to fight as we can. I’m not a baby anymore, Dad. Please let me help, it’s all I want.”

“Let her stay.” It is Tonks, leaning against the fireplace. Her hair is a dull brown, hanging limp across her shoulders. There is no spark in her eyes. “She is no little girl, Arthur.”

And so Mr. Weasley sighs, and nods. Ginny can stay. Just like that. She is almost wired with happiness, with relief. She turns her head, and looks at Harry. He smiles, shy and unsure. She smiles back, her wide grin grateful and confident. She knows that together, this motley bunch of people can do anything.

Smile

If you can

I’m with you till the end

That’s all I wanna do