FIC--Wallowing in Self-Pity, part seven
Jul. 19th, 2007 07:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ficsbydeenasTitle: Wallowing in Self-Pity
Chapter Seven
Chapter Pairing: HP/OFC
Chapter Rating: R for language and sexual situations
Summary:Too many things have gone wrong. Too many people have suffered, even though the battle is won. A self-imposed exile is all he thinks he deserves.
PART SEVEN
Harry's eyes opened to find a mane of fiery red hair strewn across the pillow. He bolted out of bed and shouted, "What the bloody fuck are you doing here?"
Ginny awoke, eyes wide with shock and fear, and then rolled off the bed to face him from the opposite side of the bed.
"Harry, please, calm down. I'll tell you everything, just stop looking at me like that!"
Her eyes begged him to believe her and he couldn't help but trust her. He sat back down and slid back to the headboard, waiting for her explanation. Ginny took her time telling him about how he'd lost control and what had happened to him physically. It appeared that the disuse of his magic caused him to shut down and made him catatonic so that his mind could recover from the sudden explosion of magic. She also told him that Claire was fine; Ginny had to modify her memory a bit and that she went home thinking Harry suddenly developed the stomach flu.
"So…so she's okay? She doesn’t know?" Harry wrung his hands together in worry.
Ginny huffed out her breath and rolled her eyes. "Yes, she's fine. It was all her fault, you know."
"Ginny, you have no idea what you're talking about here. Claire and I…we…she…"
He couldn't explain exactly what they were because he had no idea anymore. She still wanted him to declare his love for her, but he just didn't feel it. He felt nothing about anything anymore. He liked her but love? No, that was for sure. He hadn't loved anyone in a long time and wondered if her ever could again.
It also didn't help that Claire also pestered him about moving into her flat since his was so small. While her reasoning was sound—that they rarely spent a night apart lately—Harry didn't want anything resembling a serious relationship right now. But on the other hand, he really should have thought of that before sleeping with her.
"Try. Try and tell me, Harry." She reached out and touched his knee, sending shockwaves up his thigh.
He was just about to say something when they heard the door open.
"Harry? Are you okay, baby?" Her footsteps became louder as she neared the bedroom. "Harry…What is she doing here?" Claire dropped the canvas grocery bag she was carrying, sending tins of soup and oranges across the floor.
"I…I got here a few minutes ago to check on him," Ginny explained quickly. "He's much better now that you're here."
Harry watched as Ginny quietly got off the bed and left the room. He cringed when she didn't even turn around and wave goodbye.
-----
After his explosion of accidental magic and Ginny's sudden reappearance that Tuesday night, Harry's nightmares became more frequent and more severe. He often woke up in a cold sweat and once, he awoke with bleeding scratches across his chest from a dream he had where he was covered in ants. And of course, his memories came back to him during his sleep, making for some very fitful nights and an increasingly large number of sleepless nights.
His lack of sleep caused Harry to become very temperamental lately and it ended up costing him his job. He'd never felt more humiliated than when the store manager, a near replica of Harry's uncle Vernon, pulled him into his office and sacked him after only a month and a half on the job.
Harry also needed to end things with Claire. They rarely talked anymore and the only place they connected on any level was in bed. He was a shell of his former self and Harry hated the person he'd become and longed for the person he used to be.
A few days after he was fired, Harry opened his mail and found an envelope with Ginny's writing on it. He tore it open, flinging the rest of his mail onto the floor.
The thought of returning to The Burrow thrilled and terrified him at the same time. Harry really missed the Weasleys and everything that he left behind. But at the same time, he feared the welcome he would receive from those he walked away from so selfishly.
It was time, he decided, to go back.
The first thing he needed to do was break things off with Claire. She was coming over that night to watch a new DVD he'd bought, which he thought was innocent enough. When she arrived, he knew he was in for a battle. Claire had dressed comfortably, wearing a sweatshirt that was not baggy in the least, skimming her waist and leaving a nice patch of skin above her low-rise jeans.
"So what are we watching? Titanic?"
Titanic was the last movie Harry wanted to watch on the night he was set to break up with his girlfriend.
"Er, no. Dumb and Dumber," he answered. He prepared himself for the reaction he knew would come.
"Oh you've got to be kidding, Harry. Jim Carrey is just…juvenile," she huffed, throwing herself down onto the sofa.
"Sorry, but I want to watch it. It's funny." Harry plopped down on the opposite end of the sofa. "If you don't want to watch, you don't have to stay." He was purposefully sabotaging the evening and hoped it was working.
"Fine, I'll stay," she announced. "Good thing I brought Newcastle with me." She pulled two six packs of Newcastle Brown Ale from her rucksack and set them on the coffee table.
He stared at the ale, knowing that him plus alcohol plus Claire would only lead to one thing, a night of raucous sex that he'd regret in the morning. Maybe he'd just stick with Coke.
"Er, Claire, you know I haven't had anything to drink since Christmas. I'll just go get myself a Coke," he told her. He made to get up but Claire surprised him and pushed him down and straddled his lap, effectively pinning him to the couch.
"If I have to watch the world's stupidest movie, you can drink Newcastle with me," she purred, her lips a breath away from the shell of his ear. "Deal?"
All he could do was swallow loudly and nod his head. Claire slid off him seductively and crawled over to the entertainment center and put the DVD in the player. The film started and Claire snuggled up to Harry, throwing her left leg over his. Her hand began roaming around his chest, wrinkling the fabric of his blue t-shirt underneath her palm, making Harry feel things he really didn't want to feel. About halfway through the movie and three ales, she climbed back into his lap and began nibbling on his earlobe and wiggling her hips.
"Claire…don't…I need to talk to you 'bout something," he whispered as he closed his eyes, willing his body to ignore the touch of the woman beside him, the warmth of her breath on his skin, the smell of her perfume and the pressure of her body against his.
"I don’t want to talk, Harry." She claimed his mouth with hers, plunging her tongue into his mouth and her hands inside his shirt. "God I love you, Harry. I love you, you hear me?"
"Yeah…I hear you, Claire…but—fuck, don't DO that!" Harry arched his back once she unzipped his jeans and sneaked her hand inside his fly, grabbing his cock in her thin fingers. Harry grabbed her arse and stood up, holding her against his hips and walked them to the bedroom, all the while she never stopped stroking him or kissing him.
He made love to her roughly, holding her down as he thrust into her, completely disregarding the moans that begged him to let her go. It wasn't Claire that Harry was making love to—the only one he pictured was Ginny. He imagined her flaming hair spread across the pillow like it did that morning when she was sleeping in his bed. That's who belonged in his bed, not Claire.
Harry growled loudly as he came, barely containing the shout that was building up inside him, for he wasn't going to shout out "Claire" but rather "Ginny" instead.
"Mmmm, love," Claire moaned, "you are…" She didn’t finish her sentence but merely rolled him to his side and curled her body around his. Claire placed a light kiss on his chest before falling asleep next to him as he snored softly.
-----
"RONNNNN!”
Harry shot up, sweat dripping off his forehead, nearly hyperventilating as he breathed, his eyes nearly popping out of his head, to a sitting position. He felt someone touch his shoulder and he quickly brushed it off, scared that he was still caught in the nightmare.
"Harry…"
He looked to his right and squinted at the blurry form of the person on his left.
"Harry, it's okay."
He stared at her for a moment, processing the scene before him. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and blinked.
"Yeah…I'll, I'll be okay, Claire." He fell against the pillows behind him and watched as Claire lay down next to him, curling herself against him. "What day is it?"
"Shh, baby, it's okay," she answered, stroking his sweat-soaked chest.
It wasn't the first time Harry had nightmares like this, and every time, Claire tried to sooth him with her touch. At first, she was able to calm him rather easily. But in the past few weeks, the nightmares became more frequent, more horrific, and it took longer to calm him down.
"No, it's bloody well not okay! What day is it?" Harry shouted at her, making her jump.
Claire moved away from him and looked at the clock. "Well, it's now Thursday morning, love."
"No! The date! What's the bloody date?" He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her violently.
"Stop it!"
He immediately released her and she fell against the bed. Keeping her eyes on him, Claire moved to the edge of the bed and got off to gather her clothing, which was strewn across the floor.
"Claire…Claire, I'm sorry!"
"Harry, there are things you're not telling me and I don't like it one bit! Who's Ron? You screamed his name again. And there's been Hermione and Ginny. Who ARE they?" She pulled her sweatshirt over her head and stepped into her jeans. "Harry, answer me!"
"They…they…What day is it?" he asked again, desperate for an answer. He watched as she stomped toward the door of the bedroom.
"Harry, it's March first!"
The door slammed and she was gone.
Harry swore to himself and jumped out of bed, pulling on his discarded boxer shorts. He threw open the door and just as Claire got to the door, he shouted at her, making her jump.
"Now what, Harry?"
"Claire, there's just some things you don't know and I can't tell you."
"Then why DON'T you tell me about it?" She placed her hands on her hips, looking ridiculous.
"Claire," he began with a laugh in his voice, "stop trying to look like Molly." His eyes widened as he realized who he was referring to but at this moment, he really didn't care.
"And who's that? Another one of your—"
"Stop!" he shouted, raising a hand to her, almost feeling ready to slap her. "That's none of your business."
"There's a lot of that going around lately, isn't there? Nothing's my business anymore, is it?"
"Nope," he said simply. "And nothing ever will be your business anymore. We're done, Claire."
"What? You're breaking UP with me? What about that in there?" She pointed toward the area of the bedroom. "Last night—"
"Was the last time. I tried to break it off before that, but you just had to push it, didn't you?"
"And you can't control that thing of yours, can you?" She walked up to Harry and stood nose to nose with him.
Normally, in this position, they'd end up kissing each other. Despite his state of undress, Harry was completely unaffected by this. He continued to stare at her and then pointed to the door.
"Bye, Claire."
"Bu—but Harry! I…I love you! I'll help you through whatever it is that's going on! Please don't do this!"
"Sorry, but you can't help me put my life back the way it should be," he pointed out.
"And I suppose that little tramp with the red hair is the reason behind it all?"
"That's enough, Claire!"
At his words, the flat began to shake, much the same way as when he blew up Aunt Marge. He really didn't want to blow up Claire so he took a step backwards and raised his hands.
"I really think you should leave, Claire. I don't want to blow you up."
"What?" She squinted at him as if she were trying to figure out exactly what the hell he was talking about.
"Never mind, Claire. Thanks for everything, really." Harry stepped toward the door and held it open for her, watching her face change from confusion to one of shock and pain. "I didn't mean to hurt you, really, but it's over."
Tears began falling down her cheeks. Harry was afraid she'd get into it again, but thankfully all Claire did was back out the door, breathing erratically. With a final whimper, she turned around and sobbed all the way down the stairs. Without thinking, he walked to the window in the kitchen to watch her as she made her way to her car. He couldn't tell if she was still crying or not, but he couldn't think about that right now.
He had to put his life back together.
Starting now.
Chapter Seven
Chapter Pairing: HP/OFC
Chapter Rating: R for language and sexual situations
Summary:Too many things have gone wrong. Too many people have suffered, even though the battle is won. A self-imposed exile is all he thinks he deserves.
Harry's eyes opened to find a mane of fiery red hair strewn across the pillow. He bolted out of bed and shouted, "What the bloody fuck are you doing here?"
Ginny awoke, eyes wide with shock and fear, and then rolled off the bed to face him from the opposite side of the bed.
"Harry, please, calm down. I'll tell you everything, just stop looking at me like that!"
Her eyes begged him to believe her and he couldn't help but trust her. He sat back down and slid back to the headboard, waiting for her explanation. Ginny took her time telling him about how he'd lost control and what had happened to him physically. It appeared that the disuse of his magic caused him to shut down and made him catatonic so that his mind could recover from the sudden explosion of magic. She also told him that Claire was fine; Ginny had to modify her memory a bit and that she went home thinking Harry suddenly developed the stomach flu.
"So…so she's okay? She doesn’t know?" Harry wrung his hands together in worry.
Ginny huffed out her breath and rolled her eyes. "Yes, she's fine. It was all her fault, you know."
"Ginny, you have no idea what you're talking about here. Claire and I…we…she…"
He couldn't explain exactly what they were because he had no idea anymore. She still wanted him to declare his love for her, but he just didn't feel it. He felt nothing about anything anymore. He liked her but love? No, that was for sure. He hadn't loved anyone in a long time and wondered if her ever could again.
It also didn't help that Claire also pestered him about moving into her flat since his was so small. While her reasoning was sound—that they rarely spent a night apart lately—Harry didn't want anything resembling a serious relationship right now. But on the other hand, he really should have thought of that before sleeping with her.
"Try. Try and tell me, Harry." She reached out and touched his knee, sending shockwaves up his thigh.
He was just about to say something when they heard the door open.
"Harry? Are you okay, baby?" Her footsteps became louder as she neared the bedroom. "Harry…What is she doing here?" Claire dropped the canvas grocery bag she was carrying, sending tins of soup and oranges across the floor.
"I…I got here a few minutes ago to check on him," Ginny explained quickly. "He's much better now that you're here."
Harry watched as Ginny quietly got off the bed and left the room. He cringed when she didn't even turn around and wave goodbye.
-----
After his explosion of accidental magic and Ginny's sudden reappearance that Tuesday night, Harry's nightmares became more frequent and more severe. He often woke up in a cold sweat and once, he awoke with bleeding scratches across his chest from a dream he had where he was covered in ants. And of course, his memories came back to him during his sleep, making for some very fitful nights and an increasingly large number of sleepless nights.
His lack of sleep caused Harry to become very temperamental lately and it ended up costing him his job. He'd never felt more humiliated than when the store manager, a near replica of Harry's uncle Vernon, pulled him into his office and sacked him after only a month and a half on the job.
Harry also needed to end things with Claire. They rarely talked anymore and the only place they connected on any level was in bed. He was a shell of his former self and Harry hated the person he'd become and longed for the person he used to be.
A few days after he was fired, Harry opened his mail and found an envelope with Ginny's writing on it. He tore it open, flinging the rest of his mail onto the floor.
Harry—
I thought you should know that Ron's finished a rehabilitation program to help him with the loss of his arm. Hermione made that an ultimatum for him. Either he did that, or she was gone. He's also been seeing someone to deal with his depression. He's doing much better, but has been asking about you lately. He's been very close to finding you a few times and it's getting more difficult for me to distract him.
It would mean a lot to him if you came by for his birthday party on Thursday night. I think it would do a world of good for you, too, Harry.
Ginny
The thought of returning to The Burrow thrilled and terrified him at the same time. Harry really missed the Weasleys and everything that he left behind. But at the same time, he feared the welcome he would receive from those he walked away from so selfishly.
It was time, he decided, to go back.
The first thing he needed to do was break things off with Claire. She was coming over that night to watch a new DVD he'd bought, which he thought was innocent enough. When she arrived, he knew he was in for a battle. Claire had dressed comfortably, wearing a sweatshirt that was not baggy in the least, skimming her waist and leaving a nice patch of skin above her low-rise jeans.
"So what are we watching? Titanic?"
Titanic was the last movie Harry wanted to watch on the night he was set to break up with his girlfriend.
"Er, no. Dumb and Dumber," he answered. He prepared himself for the reaction he knew would come.
"Oh you've got to be kidding, Harry. Jim Carrey is just…juvenile," she huffed, throwing herself down onto the sofa.
"Sorry, but I want to watch it. It's funny." Harry plopped down on the opposite end of the sofa. "If you don't want to watch, you don't have to stay." He was purposefully sabotaging the evening and hoped it was working.
"Fine, I'll stay," she announced. "Good thing I brought Newcastle with me." She pulled two six packs of Newcastle Brown Ale from her rucksack and set them on the coffee table.
He stared at the ale, knowing that him plus alcohol plus Claire would only lead to one thing, a night of raucous sex that he'd regret in the morning. Maybe he'd just stick with Coke.
"Er, Claire, you know I haven't had anything to drink since Christmas. I'll just go get myself a Coke," he told her. He made to get up but Claire surprised him and pushed him down and straddled his lap, effectively pinning him to the couch.
"If I have to watch the world's stupidest movie, you can drink Newcastle with me," she purred, her lips a breath away from the shell of his ear. "Deal?"
All he could do was swallow loudly and nod his head. Claire slid off him seductively and crawled over to the entertainment center and put the DVD in the player. The film started and Claire snuggled up to Harry, throwing her left leg over his. Her hand began roaming around his chest, wrinkling the fabric of his blue t-shirt underneath her palm, making Harry feel things he really didn't want to feel. About halfway through the movie and three ales, she climbed back into his lap and began nibbling on his earlobe and wiggling her hips.
"Claire…don't…I need to talk to you 'bout something," he whispered as he closed his eyes, willing his body to ignore the touch of the woman beside him, the warmth of her breath on his skin, the smell of her perfume and the pressure of her body against his.
"I don’t want to talk, Harry." She claimed his mouth with hers, plunging her tongue into his mouth and her hands inside his shirt. "God I love you, Harry. I love you, you hear me?"
"Yeah…I hear you, Claire…but—fuck, don't DO that!" Harry arched his back once she unzipped his jeans and sneaked her hand inside his fly, grabbing his cock in her thin fingers. Harry grabbed her arse and stood up, holding her against his hips and walked them to the bedroom, all the while she never stopped stroking him or kissing him.
He made love to her roughly, holding her down as he thrust into her, completely disregarding the moans that begged him to let her go. It wasn't Claire that Harry was making love to—the only one he pictured was Ginny. He imagined her flaming hair spread across the pillow like it did that morning when she was sleeping in his bed. That's who belonged in his bed, not Claire.
Harry growled loudly as he came, barely containing the shout that was building up inside him, for he wasn't going to shout out "Claire" but rather "Ginny" instead.
"Mmmm, love," Claire moaned, "you are…" She didn’t finish her sentence but merely rolled him to his side and curled her body around his. Claire placed a light kiss on his chest before falling asleep next to him as he snored softly.
-----
"RONNNNN!”
Harry shot up, sweat dripping off his forehead, nearly hyperventilating as he breathed, his eyes nearly popping out of his head, to a sitting position. He felt someone touch his shoulder and he quickly brushed it off, scared that he was still caught in the nightmare.
"Harry…"
He looked to his right and squinted at the blurry form of the person on his left.
"Harry, it's okay."
He stared at her for a moment, processing the scene before him. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and blinked.
"Yeah…I'll, I'll be okay, Claire." He fell against the pillows behind him and watched as Claire lay down next to him, curling herself against him. "What day is it?"
"Shh, baby, it's okay," she answered, stroking his sweat-soaked chest.
It wasn't the first time Harry had nightmares like this, and every time, Claire tried to sooth him with her touch. At first, she was able to calm him rather easily. But in the past few weeks, the nightmares became more frequent, more horrific, and it took longer to calm him down.
"No, it's bloody well not okay! What day is it?" Harry shouted at her, making her jump.
Claire moved away from him and looked at the clock. "Well, it's now Thursday morning, love."
"No! The date! What's the bloody date?" He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her violently.
"Stop it!"
He immediately released her and she fell against the bed. Keeping her eyes on him, Claire moved to the edge of the bed and got off to gather her clothing, which was strewn across the floor.
"Claire…Claire, I'm sorry!"
"Harry, there are things you're not telling me and I don't like it one bit! Who's Ron? You screamed his name again. And there's been Hermione and Ginny. Who ARE they?" She pulled her sweatshirt over her head and stepped into her jeans. "Harry, answer me!"
"They…they…What day is it?" he asked again, desperate for an answer. He watched as she stomped toward the door of the bedroom.
"Harry, it's March first!"
The door slammed and she was gone.
Harry swore to himself and jumped out of bed, pulling on his discarded boxer shorts. He threw open the door and just as Claire got to the door, he shouted at her, making her jump.
"Now what, Harry?"
"Claire, there's just some things you don't know and I can't tell you."
"Then why DON'T you tell me about it?" She placed her hands on her hips, looking ridiculous.
"Claire," he began with a laugh in his voice, "stop trying to look like Molly." His eyes widened as he realized who he was referring to but at this moment, he really didn't care.
"And who's that? Another one of your—"
"Stop!" he shouted, raising a hand to her, almost feeling ready to slap her. "That's none of your business."
"There's a lot of that going around lately, isn't there? Nothing's my business anymore, is it?"
"Nope," he said simply. "And nothing ever will be your business anymore. We're done, Claire."
"What? You're breaking UP with me? What about that in there?" She pointed toward the area of the bedroom. "Last night—"
"Was the last time. I tried to break it off before that, but you just had to push it, didn't you?"
"And you can't control that thing of yours, can you?" She walked up to Harry and stood nose to nose with him.
Normally, in this position, they'd end up kissing each other. Despite his state of undress, Harry was completely unaffected by this. He continued to stare at her and then pointed to the door.
"Bye, Claire."
"Bu—but Harry! I…I love you! I'll help you through whatever it is that's going on! Please don't do this!"
"Sorry, but you can't help me put my life back the way it should be," he pointed out.
"And I suppose that little tramp with the red hair is the reason behind it all?"
"That's enough, Claire!"
At his words, the flat began to shake, much the same way as when he blew up Aunt Marge. He really didn't want to blow up Claire so he took a step backwards and raised his hands.
"I really think you should leave, Claire. I don't want to blow you up."
"What?" She squinted at him as if she were trying to figure out exactly what the hell he was talking about.
"Never mind, Claire. Thanks for everything, really." Harry stepped toward the door and held it open for her, watching her face change from confusion to one of shock and pain. "I didn't mean to hurt you, really, but it's over."
Tears began falling down her cheeks. Harry was afraid she'd get into it again, but thankfully all Claire did was back out the door, breathing erratically. With a final whimper, she turned around and sobbed all the way down the stairs. Without thinking, he walked to the window in the kitchen to watch her as she made her way to her car. He couldn't tell if she was still crying or not, but he couldn't think about that right now.
He had to put his life back together.
Starting now.
