They weren't talking to each other at all. Talking didn't really seem necessary at the time. It was enough just that they were together, in each other's arms, relaxing and enjoying the beautiful day. He shifted slightly, and she responded by burrowing closer to him, enjoying the warmth of his body and the feeling of his arms wrapped around her.
She was only able to enjoy it for a moment though because she quickly began to realize that something wasn't quite right. He seemed worried or troubled about something. His body had tensed up suddenly, and he couldn't seem to keep his arms still. No, nothing was right about this at all.
As she began putting things together, the beautiful setting before her faded away. The body that had been holding her remained the same, but they were no longer outdoors, and he was still incredibly tense. She blearily opened up her eyes and found herself staring into blackness. It wasn't a deep blackness like there was no light and she was staring into shadows. No this was a black of a different nature, and she quickly realized why. It was black cloth. Her hand was on it, and she moved it around experimentally, quickly realizing what it was she was lying on.
She was cuddled up on the couch with a boy, but not just any boy. She had fallen asleep in the arms of Harry Potter. That brought a bemused smile to her face for a moment, but then she realized why they had fallen asleep together. That prat had gone and almost gotten himself killed. Sometimes she wondered how he could be so incredibly reckless with his own life, while at the same time so concerned for everybody else. He was a mystery all right.
He mumbled something then. She didn't catch what he said, if he had said anything coherent at all, but it was enough to distract her from her musings. Something was wrong with Harry. He was incredibly stiff and was shaking slightly. A gasp escaped from his mouth, and she turned her head to see him shaking his own head back and forth as if hoping to ward off some unknown force. His face was scrunched up, and he looked to be in a terrible amount of pain. He was biting his lip, and she received quite a shock when she noticed a trickle of blood making its way down his chin.
"Harry," she whispered trying to wake the boy. It had no effect. "Harry," she said a little louder, shaking him a little. He still didn't respond, but the pained expression on his face grew worse. One of his hands flew to his scar as the blood running down his chin began to accumulate. He was still biting down on his lip. "Harry," she called much more urgently, shaking him hard. When he still didn't respond, she scrambled out from her awkward position.
Once she left, he curled himself into a ball and whimpered pathetically. It tore at her heart to see him like this. He was normally so strong and in control, and she knew for a fact that he would never let his guard down so fully in front of anyone. Yet here he was, helpless and weak. She didn't know what to do. She couldn't wake him, but he seemed to be suffering. He was grasping at his scar, so there was a pretty good chance that it had something to do with Voldemort. She thought about running to get someone, but she didn't want to leave him alone, nor was she sure that he would want her to draw any undue attention to him.
She struggled with herself over what to do for a moment before finally making up her mind. She sat back on the couch next to him and reached over to run her hand across his cheek in a soft caress. She decided that if nothing else she would try to comfort Harry as best she could. From what little she knew about Harry's episodes with his scar, there was little that could be done except wait it out. She wasn't content to just sit back and watch him suffer, so she decided that if she could afford him some small comfort in the midst of his torment, then she would do anything she could.
He flinched a little when she first made contact with his skin, and she wondered if this had been such a bright idea after all. But after a moment he seemed to relax just a little and accept the presence of her hand. She ran her hand across his face a little, then settled for playing with his hair. She gently massaged his scalp and curled his hair around her fingers. Then she would run her fingers through his shoulder length locks.
She wondered to herself why he had grown his hair out this summer. Was it just to help with his disguise? Did he like it like this? Did he dislike his old hair style? She had always liked his hair in the past. Sure it was messy and unruly, but it was incredibly cute. And she thought that it suited him well. She liked the new hair on him as well, but she missed the old haircut a bit.
While she idly stroked his hair, Harry began to relax little by little. He slowly uncurled out of his protective ball, and Ginny began to coax him further. She whispered soothing words to him and guided his head into her lap. She continued with her ministrations, her left hand now playing with his hair as her right hand held his left, lying on his chest. Every so often she would squeeze it gently in an attempt to offer him comfort. She was happy to find that every so often he would squeeze back lightly.
She watched his face now as he continued to battle through whatever nightmares he was being subjected to. His right hand still held onto his scar, but she noticed that it had loosened up a bit. He had stopped biting his lip, she noted thankfully. Every so often he still let out a gasp of pain, but it seemed more subdued now. He would also mumble incoherently from time to time.
They continued in that manner for several minutes before she noticed any new differences in him. He finally let his arm fall away from his forehead, and his body relaxed noticeably. There was still some stiffness left in it, but it was more subtle now. It seemed the worst of it had passed. She continued to hold his hand and play with his hair for several more minutes to make sure he didn't have a relapse of some sort.
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