Summary: Two chapters of Harry and Ginny's reunion after the Battle of Hogwarts.
Rating: PG
Categories: Post-DH/AB, Post-DH/PM
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2017.09.26
Updated: 2017.09.26
Index
Chapter 1: Chapter 1 - Here
Chapter 2: Chapter 2 - Convincing
Chapter 1: Chapter 1 - Here
Author's Notes: I was working on something light and fluffy, and then this somewhat heavy and sad piece emerged, so what can you do. My headcanon is that Harry went from the Headmaster's office to bed, and Ginny followed him there because she couldn't bear to be away from him anymore, and then they fell asleep because battles and feelings are exhausting.
There were perhaps one or two other instances where Harry was this thankful for his Invisibility Cloak, but as he made his way from the Headmaster’s office to Gryffindor Tower, he could not remember being quite so grateful to be able to pass the Great Hall undetected.
With Ron and Hermione on either side of him, Harry wearily trudged up the stairs to the dormitories. Harry focused on the four poster bed in front of him {it was a bit of a shock, really, to see that this room had remained the same over this year when so much had changed} and barely realized he had removed and folded the Invisibility Cloak and slid his shoes off until he was already climbing into bed. He noticed, belatedly, that Ron and Hermione were both getting into Ron’s old bed, and Harry paused a moment to catch Ron’s eye and raise an eyebrow. Ron rolled his eyes in return and drew the curtains around his bed, and Harry turned to draw his own curtains. In the grey light, Harry’s eyelids felt heavy, and he knew he would be asleep before his head hit the pillow-
“Harry?” A tentative voice came from the foot of his bed.
It was as if all tiredness left him.
Harry’s eyes flew open and he groped for his glasses as he jerked upright. Ginny. She stood inside the curtains, thighs pressed against the bed, staring at him with an inscrutable expression on her face. Her jumper was dirty and had several singe marks on it; dirt and possibly ashes streaked her face and hair, and….and Harry thought she had never looked more beautiful.
Without conscious thought, Harry extended one hand towards her, and Ginny immediately clambered onto the bed. She paused only to kick off her shoes, and then she was working her way under the covers. They lay down at the same time and turned towards each other, just staring. Ginny’s eyes roved his face, and Harry was suddenly aware that his face was probably dirtier than hers, and maybe he should have considered a shower before collapsing.
Before he could move, or think, or do anything to clean his face, Ginny scooted closer to him, flung an arm around him, and buried her head in his chest. Automatically, Harry brought his arm around her and tilted his head down so he could breathe in her scent. Ginny. As Harry held her close, he was struck by just how much he had missed her, how long he had been waiting and hoping that he could hold her again, how much he loved her.
His arm tightened around her, and then he realized that Ginny was trembling, no, not trembling; she was shaking, shaking with tears. Ginny, who hardly ever shed tears, was crying softly and seemed to be saying something against his shirt. Harry pulled back from her and hunched down a bit so their faces were level. Ginny’s eyes were closed and her mouth was moving. Harry leaned closer to catch the words.
“You’re here you’re here you’re here,” Ginny chanted breathlessly, tugging him closer. Harry let himself be pulled, and he straightened his back and wrapped his arms around her again. “We’re both here, Ginny, we’re both here,” he murmured.
Ginny looked up at him, her tears and chants stopping abruptly. She studied him for a moment, her eyes piercing. “I’m going to ask you two questions, and I want two answers from you, and then we can sleep. But you are going to answer me, Harry Potter, understand?” Her voice was low and quiet, and Harry held her gaze, unflinching, as she stared at him. He nodded, and Ginny took a breath before continuing, keeping her voice quiet. “Did you really die?”
Harry caught his breath. He wanted to tell Ginny the truth, but he also didn’t know how to answer without explaining the whole story of the Horcruxes and his mother’s sacrifice, and if Harry was very honest with himself, he wasn’t sure how to describe or categorize his time in King’s Cross with Dumbledore.
But Ginny was still watching him intently, with tears still wet upon her cheeks, and Harry licked his lips before answering.
“I...I think so, Ginny. I don’t know,” he faltered, trying to force his thoughts into something cohesive so his tongue could form words and push out the lump that was suddenly lodged in his throat.
He swallowed - Ginny’s eyes darted to his throat and then back to his eyes - and tried to continue. “I’m not sure what happened, really, in the forest, but I know I had a choice to come back or go on, and… and when I thought...thought of you, I wanted to come back. I mean, I knew that I should come back, that I needed to come back in order to finish off Riddle, but you...god, Ginny, I thought of you and I wanted, so desperately, to come ba-”
He was cut off by Ginny’s mouth as she kissed him hungrily. He kissed her back immediately, spreading his hands to hold her even more tightly. He could feel fresh tears on Ginny’s cheeks, could taste tears on her lips, and he kept on kissing her. Just a few hours ago he had thought he would never see her again, never kiss her again, and yet here she was, alive, in his arms, and despite the saltiness of tears, he thought she had never tasted so sweet.
With a gasp, Ginny stopped kissing him. She didn’t move very far, though, and she filled Harry’s vision. They were both breathing hard, and Harry couldn’t help tilting his head forward and quickly pressing another kiss against her lips. When he pulled back again, he met her gaze and whispered, “What's your second question?”
Ginny smiled then, really smiled, and Harry was struck once again that he had believed he would never see that smile ever again. He moved so he could stroke her cheek with one hand, and her smile widened. She turned her head and quickly kissed Harry’s palm, then looked back at him.
“The second question should be easier to answer, I think, at least right now” she answered with a slight sigh. “Later, will you… will you tell me everything?”
Harry didn’t hesitate this time. “Yes, Ginny. I promise that soon, I will tell you everything.”
He kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth. He felt as though he could continue kissing her, could just keep on kissing Ginny and never want anything else, but as he blinked, he realized that he was about to fall asleep. He broke away from her reluctantly, smiling as Ginny looked up at him.
“You asked your two questions, and I’ve given you two answers, so now-” he stifled an enormous yawn, and Ginny grinned and finished his sentence, “yes, Harry, let’s get some sleep.”
Harry smiled sleepily and pulled the bedclothes up to their shoulders, then wrapped his arm around Ginny again. She snuggled in closer, resting her top arm around Harry’s waist and folding her bottom arm between them. Ginny hesitated, then pressed the palm of her bottom hand against Harry’s chest, right over his heart, over his fresh bruise. Harry blinked at her.
“Is this okay?” Ginny whispered, not meeting his gaze. “I want...I want to feel your heart beating, because it still doesn’t feel real. I want to know, to feel that you’re alive even when my eyes are closed, because when I shut them-” she took a deep steadying breath “-when I shut my eyes, all I see is Hagrid carrying your body, and I want to know that you’re here with me.”
She was blinking back more tears, but she raised her eyes to meet Harry’s, and he recognized that stubborn tilt of her jaw. Harry gazed at her, drinking her in. “I’m here,” he said again. “We’re both here, safe and alive. We’re here, Gin.”
Chapter 2: Chapter 2 - Convincing
Author's Notes: So this started out as a wee 1.5-page ditty, and then Elle read it and encouraged me to flesh out one particular spot....and now we have this little monster.
Ginny is watching Harry sleep. It isn’t creepy; she had just been asleep a few minutes ago, but now she isn’t, so she is watching him sleep. The dormitory is quiet, though bright sunlight is shining in through the windows. The room is deserted, and even as Ginny’s stomach growls, she wants only to lie here in Harry’s bed and watch him sleep.
The expression “sleeps like the dead” comes to mind, but since Ginny had, just yesterday, seen Harry actually dead, or apparently dead, she pushes the phrase from her mind. That had been perhaps the worst moment yesterday, seeing Harry in Hagrid’s arms. Well, the worst moment besides going into the Great Hall and finding her family gathered around Fred’s body. Seeing her brother dead, seeing his twin retch in agony... that was the worst part of yesterday. At least Harry had come back to life, back to her.
She shifts restlessly, forcing her mind away from Fred and back to Harry. Harry, the Chosen One, defeater of Lord Voldemort. He is all those things, true, but also he is just Harry. Harry, the boy she hero-worshipped as a child. Harry who had become her friend over the years, her instructor in the D.A., her Quidditch team-mate and captain. Harry who kissed her in the common room. Harry who broke up with her in order to keep them both safe while he saved the wizarding world. Harry who is now awake.
Harry blinks blearily at her, as if he can’t quite figure out what she’s doing in his bed. He reaches blindly for his glasses, his hand fumbling just a bit over the bedside table. She watches silently as he puts them on, then he turns back to her, shifting onto his side so he faces her. She twists to her side as well; their heads are inches apart on Harry’s pillow.
“You really are here. Last night wasn’t a dream,” he whispers hoarsely. “I was worried that I’d dreamed you up or something. Although I didn’t really dream anything, once I fell asleep.” His hand twitches towards her, like he wants to touch her but is holding himself back. She notices this but doesn’t comment, choosing instead to raise an eyebrow at him.
“I don’t blame you, Harry. You looked like you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in, well, a long time.” She inches closer until their knees are touching, and Ginny hears Harry suck in a quick breath.
“I haven’t,” he agrees, eyes still on her face. “But I still dreamed about you. And I worried last night was a dream. But it wasn’t, was it? Or am I dreaming now?”
His voice is still scratchy from sleep, but his eyes look serious behind his glasses. In so many words, he’s asking if he had dreamed up their brief conversation and kisses last night, and with a start, Ginny realizes that despite their talk last night, Harry still isn’t convinced that she wants him back.
Ginny raises a hand to trace over Harry’s face, gently touching his cheek, his brow, the scar on his forehead. His breath is warm on her arm. “It feels a bit like a dream, doesn’t it,” she whispers. Harry says nothing; he just watches her. “Harry,” she murmurs as she moves to brush her fingers through his hair, “it wasn’t a dream. You really did defeat Riddle, it really is over, and I really did crawl into your bed last night.”
She smirks at that last bit, at how bold she sounds, and she lowers her hand from his hair to rest on his shoulder. Harry’s eyes relax, but he doesn’t smile yet. He wants to be sure, to be confident that they understand each other, so he asks her, uncertain, “So… are we back together? I know I hurt you when we broke u-”
Ginny interrupts him to correct, “When you broke up with me ,” and Harry gulps. “Right. When I broke up with you. Which I did to protect you, and--” he holds up a hand so Ginny won’t cut him off again “-which was more about me protecting myself, since I know you don’t need protection,” he finishes. He drops his hand between them, and his fingers play with the hem of the blanket.
Ginny nods approvingly at him. Clearly, he was paying attention in the Room of Requirement that day. He goes on, “But are we together again? Are we...us?”
Ginny sighs and rolls away from him to lie on her back. Harry watches her nervously, already missing her touch on his shoulder. She stares at the canopy hanging over them, and Harry feels his stomach turn into a tight knot.
“After Dumbledore’s funeral, after you broke up with me, I was mad at you, you know,” she said conversationally, as if she wasn’t confessing a truth to him. “I was furious. I mean, I was expecting you to break up with me so you could go save the world; I wasn’t surprised when you did, because you were never going to not defeat Voldemort. But I was angry that you felt you had to break it off, that I couldn’t be a part of that.”
She takes a deep breath before continuing. “I was angry when you left after Bill and Fleur’s wedding. It was somewhat selfish - I wanted to say a real goodbye, but then I talked with...with the twins, and they helped me understand a couple of things. First, as much as I wanted to go with you and be a part of the fight, I would be a liability because I’m underage. And secondly,” she pauses and licks her lips, “I realized I was not actually angry at you but at Voldemort. I didn’t want you to break up with me, but Voldemort kind of forced you. I was mad at him for taking you away from me, because when we were together... Merlin, Harry, I loved being with you. I felt - I feel - like I just threw the Quaffle through the hoop, and I wanted that back. I want you back.”
“You…. you want me back?” Harry's voice is shocked, skeptical. Despite Ginny’s speech, he remains unconvinced.
“Harry,” Ginny says slowly, and his heart drops. “Harry, where am I?”
“Huh?” This is not what he expected.
“Where am I right now, Harry?” Her voice is patient but her eyes do not leave the ceiling.
“Er, you’re at Hogwarts,” he tries, bewildered.
“Where in Hogwarts?” There is a smile in her voice, but he is too distracted by her questions to notice.
“In Gryffindor Tower?” Where is she going with this, he wonders.
“Can you be more specific?” She finally turns her head to look at him, and he can see that she is enjoying his confusion.
He swallows as she turns to face him, and it begins to sink in. “Ah, you’re in the boys’ dormitory. In the Seventh Year Boys’ dormitory.”
Ginny grins at him and scoots close. Her elbow bumps him. “Can you be just a little more specific?”
The expression on her face and the closeness of her body make comprehension a challenge, but Harry forces himself to concentrate. Ginny may joke around him, may taunt him a bit, but she is not a tease.
“M-mm... more specific?” he manages, distracted by her breath on his face... and by her foot nudging its way between his legs.
Ginny’s expression is smug as she slips one arm around Harry’s waist; he immediately, almost unconsciously reciprocates. “Harry, I am here, in bed. In your bed. With you. Remember last night? I came up here, joined you in this bed, cried against your shirt, and fell asleep in your arms. Also I just told you that I was mad at Voldemort for breaking us up and that I want you. If that doesn’t mean that I want to get back together, I don’t know what does.”
Harry sputters, “Er, ah,” and coughs. “Really? You want me back, even though I dumped you?”
“Really, Harry,” her smile is gentle now, “I knew last year when you broke up with me that it was just for show, just for, ahem , protection. I figured that if you really meant to break up with me, you would have been a bit more surprised when I showed up here last night.”
She grins and rolls her eyes exaggeratedly as Harry lets out the breath he was holding. The knot in his stomach is gone, replaced by thrills of exhilaration. He grins widely and suddenly pulls Ginny against him; she lets out a little yelp of surprise, but then settles and snuggles in close, beaming at him.
Harry just looks at her, drinking her in. Her face is still dirty, and her hair is truly a mess, and Harry finds that he could stare at her forever. She is smiling at him with a brightness that could rival a patronus, and Harry cannot help tugging her and rolling so that she is lying on top of him. His hands slide to the curve of her back, and she rests her elbows on either side of him and props herself up to look at him.
“Ginny,” he whispers.
“Harry,” she whispers back, still smiling.
“Even though you are here, in my bed, er,” he blushes a little, and she helps him, a wicked glint in her eyes, “Wrapped in your arms, lying on top of you?” She sighs dramatically, “are you still not convinced?”
He grins. “How else can you manage to convince me, Gin-”
Ginny’s lips are on his before he can finish, and as one of her hands slide into his hair, Harry thinks that he will have to ask for “convincing” several more times.