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Unspoken Words
By red the author

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Category: Post-HBP
Characters:Other, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks
Genres: Angst, Fluff
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 2
Summary: It's Bill and Fleurs wedding, and of course, the unavoidable confrontation between our two favorite lovers most occur.
Hitcount: Story Total: 3823







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Unspoken Words

By red the author


Author’s Note: Woo. First Harry/Ginny story in a LONG time. I hope you enjoy it; this is the result of three nights of insomnia. But I had fun writing it. Especially Ron’s relatives, they were so enjoyable. I wish I could say mine were like that, but my relatives are crazy in different ways.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters are not mine. They belong to the lovely JKRowling, and Warner Brothers. If I did own the characters, I wouldn’t be sitting here writing silly fan fiction. I’d be finishing the seventh book.

Dedication: To all my friends, the one’s I talk to all the time, and the one’s I hardly say anything to. You are my true inspiration, and you keep me going. I am forever thankful for you all.

Many thanks to Malalou at ff.net for the proper French translations. I don't speak a lick of French, and your help was much appriciated. I'm a Spanish person, not French. Thanks!

***

Ginny Weasley sighed, and placed the crown of lilies on her head. Today was the day. The day when the first Weasley child was to be married–and the first day she was to see Harry Potter in almost a month.

Adjusting her dress, she sighed, and looked out her window. The Burrow looked like it came directly out of a fairy tale–the garden was weeded, flowers bloomed all over, a rock had even been transfigured into a vineyard where the guests where to eat dinner. Everything was perfect.

She put on a smile and walked out of her room, and down to Fred and George’s old room, where Fleur and the rest of the Bridal Party were getting dressed. Ginny savored the last moment of quietness, inside the room was going to be mayhem, and the wedding promised to be nothing less. Opening the door, she saw a needle and thread sewing Gabrielle (“Please, call me Gabby!” she had told Ginny in the worst possible English) into her dress. She was the Maid of Honor–her dress was far better than Ginny’s. While Ginny wore a simple pale gold dress with an empire waist, Gabrielle was outfitted in a similar dress with much more lace, and hers was silk, not satin.

“Oh, Ginny!” Molly exclaimed at her daughter’s arrival, “You do look amazing. Could you please go downstairs and wait for your brother? Hermione is already here, but Ron went to collect Harry. When they arrive, could you direct them to Bill’s room?”

“But Mum! I don’t wan–“She protested.

“Please Ginny, I have to make sure this dress fits–is that tight enough, Fleur?”

“Eet is almost tight enough…” Fleur said, “Oh, ‘ello Ginny!”

“Yeah, hi Fleur…Gabrielle…” Ginny turned, and shut the door. She really didn’t want to be the welcoming party when Harry returned. She couldn’t even think about him without feeling sick, but meeting him at the door….

“Hello?” Ginny cringed. She knew that voice. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

“Ron!” Ginny smiled, and came down the stairs. “Hey! How are you?” She hugged him.

“Why are you asking me how I am? Usually you hit me or something.” He said, suspiciously. “You don’t have a trap set, do you?”

“No, I just don’t feel like mucking up the dress. Mum would murder me.” Ginny said, crossing her arms.

“Ah, I see how it is.”

“Yep.”

There was an odd pause. Followed by an even longer and odder pause.

“So, who all is here?” Ron asked, setting down his bag.

“Um…mostly the bridal party. Aunt Ruth and Uncle Hermit might be somewhere in the garden…Aunty Ragenhild and Uncle Marty might be in the kitchen, she said something about wine…and cousin Molly is playing with her dolls.”

Ron sighed. “Molly is twenty-six, and still playing with dolls. Our family is insane.”

“No, she’s playing with her daughter and her daughter’s dolls. She has a kid named Roseanne.” Ginny said, nodding her head, and twisting her hair. “So…”

“Ron?” Ginny cringed, again, hearing a voice. “Ron? Are you in there?”

“I gotta go.” Ginny said, and ran upstairs as Harry walked in the door.

***

“Was that Ginny?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, that was. I dunno what’s gotten into her. It’s like she’s eleven all over again. Do you know what’s gotten into her?”

Harry coughed. Harry choked a little. Harry coughed again. “No–no idea. Say…is that one of your relatives?”

Ron looked behind him. “Oh no…” he whispered. “It’s Aunty Marge. Run, Harry! She’ll try to kill me!”

“Ronald-kins!” The afore-mentioned Aunty Marge cried. “Come here my widdle neffy-poo.” A very large woman in bright fuchsia came rumbling towards Ron. She enveloped Ron in an eye-popping hug that resembled a head lock. “Oh, look at you! All tall and grown up!” She released Ron. “But dear…you really should trim that hair! How can you expect to get married with all that hair? Or are you taking after Billy-kins? His hair is so long…how darling Fleur can see his face–“

“Aunty Marge! Look, it’s Harry Potter!” Ron exclaimed. Aunty Marge feinted dead away, knocking over a few pictures from the small earthquake caused from her fall. “Well, at least that prevents her from trying to suffocate other unsuspecting relatives.”

“Ron…who was that?”

“Oh, that was Aunty Marge. She raises magically enhanced fish. She used to raise giant penguins, but there was a zoning issue, so now she raises giant fish.” Ron said, checking that his head and neck were still a part of his body.

“Ronny!” Another unnamed relative cried, “I haven’t seen you in years!”

“Vivian!” Ron said, anguish shown quite clearly on his face. “How–um–splendid!”

“Ronny…” she said, acting very shy, “Will you still marry me? My last boyfriend decided he liked boys better and left me. The sixth one, too!” Vivian soon erupted into tears. “And here I thought Johnny would be such a nice boy, he really like shopping in London with me, and we got along so well. I even made him heart-shaped pillows and he didn’t mind! In fact, he put them on his bed. Oh, Ronny, won’t you marry me? We are fourth cousins, our children won’t be deformed!”

Ron squeaked.

This was too much for Harry. He started laughing uncontrollably. First, Ron’s Aunty Marge faints when she sees him, and now Ron’s cousin wants to marry him. This was too much. Too much for Harry. He fell on the floor, rolling in laughter, when there was a pop by his head.

“Constant vigilance, Potter! How can you keep constant vigilance with all this racket on the floor?” Harry looked above him, and saw a Mad Eye Moody with shocking pink hair, in a slinky black and gold dress.

“T–tonks?” He asked, standing up. Nymphadora Tonks sighed, and shifted back into a slightly-less odd looking person.

“How did you now it was me?” She asked, lengthening the hair.

“The hair, dear, I told you, the hair,” Remus Lupin said, dusting off his suit coat.

“Oh, shut up, Remus,” Nymphadora said, slapping him on the shoulder.

“Professor Lupin!” Harry said, straightening up. “How are you?”

“Pretty good Harry, pretty good. How are you, more importantly?” Remus said, giving Harry a manly hug. You know, the pat on the back, taking several steps away afterwards, type of hug.

“Eh, not that bad. Just waiting for my impending doom,” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Ah yes, I see how that can be mildly depressing,” Remus said a slight smile on his face. “Well, anyways, Bill wanted to see me as soon as I got here…” And with that, he hurried up the stairs, passing by Mrs. Weasley.

She stepped off the stairs, and walked around Aunty Marge, careful not to step on Aunty Marge’s hair. “I take it you introduced Margie to Harry?” Mrs. Weasley sighed, and levitated Marge to the couch.

“Yeah…I did, Mum. She took it better than I thought she would,” Ron said.

“You see Harry, Margie is a huge fan. She even started a fund when you first went to Hogwarts to pay for your robes and such. The Minister had to sit down with her and tell her you had more than enough money. Why, I’m surprised you didn’t kill her!” Mrs. Weasley said, laughing, as she went to get some water.

Vivian squeaked. “Harry P-p-potter?” She said, her eyes growing wide. “It really is you!” And then she ran from the room, straightening her hair. Mutters of “I can’t believe I wore this dress!” and “I met Harry Potter! Eek! My hair is such a mess!” Could be heard from the stairway.

“Well, Ron, I recon I met the crazy people on your side, so, what about Fleur’s?” Harry asked, speaking for the first time.

“Actually Harry, my entire family is crazy,” Ron said, “That was just the beginning. And that was Dad’s sister and child. Wait until you meet the Pruitt side and the rest of Dad’s family…” Ron shuddered.

“’Ello? ‘Ello? Iz anyone ‘ere?” A distinctly French voice called out.

“Mère? Mère!” Gabrielle cried, flying down the stairs. “C'est merveilleux de vous revoir!”

“Ma chérie, vous aussi, vous aussi!” A beautiful woman who very much resembled a veela, cried, hugging Gabrielle, who had tears in her eyes.

“Cela faisait longtemps, mère, trop longtemps! J'ai cru que j'allais mourir ici avec Fleur! Les Anglais font vraiment trop cuire leur viande!” Gabrielle said in rapid French.

“Harry…” Ron said, nudging him, “Look at all the veelas!” And indeed, beginning with a lovely lady with whom Gabrielle was continuing to speak in French with, veela-like people began flooding the Burrow. An excess of French food was being carried in on ornate plates, the guests began picking up objects with English written upon them and examining them, while Mrs. Weasley looked hopelessly lost, as no one spoke English.

“Mum!” Fleur called out, “Mum! Zis way!” She called, pointing to the garden. “Ze wedding is over ‘ere!”

The lady who led the pack of veela’s in seemed to understand, and pecking Fleur on the cheek, led the guests to the garden. “Je vais rentrer, Fleur!” She called, and picked up a plate of pastries.


Harry left Ron and Mrs. Weasley to deal with the influx of French visitors, and left the house, to go sit in the Quidditch pitch. It didn’t seem long before Ron ran out to him, telling him that the wedding was going to start.

***

A few hours later, the wedding was over with, and Harry was sitting in the back on the vineyard, sipping some wine that he most certainly should not be allowed to have. He sighed. This was beginning to look a lot like the Yule Ball, but with the notable absence of Ron. Harry sighed again. Ron and Hermione had started giggling, and then disappeared. But he didn’t mind. If they kept on giggling, he might have stabbed someone.

A group of French girls came by, and started whispering, and giggling, so Harry stood up and walked away. Some quite time would be good.

***

At the other end of the vineyard, one Ginny Weasley was sitting playing with a lemon in some ice water, sighing. She had been asked to dance by several French boys–well, that’s what she thought they were asking–but she just said “No, no,” and laid her head on the table. Looking around her, and noticing no one paying the slightest bit of attention to her, she got up and walked away.

Ginny walked past a lit archway in which Professor Lupin and Tonks were under. “So Professor, will our wedding be like this?” Tonks asked, taking a sip of some alcoholic beverage.

“Alas, all my French relatives are dead,” He said, sighing.

“Mine too. All I have is Mum, Dad, and Granny Tonks…”

Ginny walked on. She thought she saw Ron and Hermione engaged in something behind a bush, but she didn’t bother checking it out. She kept walking until she was far away from the party, and reached a stream. Sighing, she sat down on the grass, taking off her god-awful heels, and dipping her feet in the cool water.

“Ginny?” A small voice said. She stood up. Harry emerged from behind a tree.

“Harry,” Ginny said, as she picked up her shoes. “How…nice…to see you. Funnily enough, I was just leaving.”

“But you just got here, I’ll go,” He said, and grabbed his robes.

“No, Harry–don’t be chivalrous, I’ll go. You obviously wanted to be here, alone, so I’ll just go!” Ginny huffed, and began to stomp off. Really, she was doing her best to avoid him. She couldn’t stand to be around him, and had done a very good job of avoiding him, too.

“Oh–Ginny!” Ginny turned around, and saw Hermione running towards her, picking up the hem of her dress so she could run better. “Ginny, why aren’t you at the party?”

“I didn’t feel much like partying. Half the people there are related to me, and the other half–the half I would dance with–doesn’t speak English!” She exclaimed. “And then, when I do try to get some alone time–“

“–now really Ginny, you should give the French some credit–“

“–I come upon the stupidest man I could possibly come across these days–“

“–they really are quite intelligent if given the chance–“

“–and he wanted to be noble. Well guess what buster, being noble–“

“–despite the language barrier.”

“–is what got you into this mess.”

“Ginny!” Hermione cried, “Are you even listening? This is a vital lesson in culture!”

“Are you listening?” She retaliated, “I am here, pouring out my soul to you, and all you can think of is the valuable cultural connections this occasion can bring me?”

“Really, you don’t have to be so mean about it. If you are having a problem with Harry, just go, slap him, kiss him, and tell him what exactly you are feeling. Do anything. He ruined a good thing in the first place. Make him see how he is hurting you. That will make him go weak,” Hermione said, importantly. “Really, that should work.”

“You know, when you aren’t spurting out stupid goblin facts, you really are helpful,” Ginny said. “Thanks. You know, I am going to find Harry now…” And with that, she walked away. She dropped her shoes by a tree, she could get them later. Right now she had one Harry Potter to find, and convince that she was worth it.

A few minutes later, Ginny found the afore mentioned messy-haired boy sitting under a tree where she left him. She sighed, and walked over to him. “Harry?” she said, more as a question that as a statement. “I’m…sorry for running away from you like that.”

He glanced up at her. “It’s okay Ginny. You need your space, I shouldn’t have bothered you.” Harry said, concentrating on the grass.

“No, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have run. It was stupid. I should have realized that I was just avoiding a confrontation that was destined to happen, Ginny countered.

“Really, don’t worry. I was being stupid.”

“Harry, shut up.” He blushed a bit. “Let me say my peace. I was understanding at the funeral because I understand. I know that you needed your space to go do whatever you need to do, but I do feel it was a little unjust to breakup with me. Maybe you feel that if we aren’t ‘formerly’ dating, then no one will pay any mind, but that still doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, and that I won’t be in danger. Because I do. Love you, that is. I love you so much, that it hurts.

“I couldn’t think of you this summer without feeling sick, or wanting to cry, because I know that whatever asinine things you have to do, I couldn’t be a part of. But that doesn’t defeat the fact that I love you. I love you, Harry James Potter, even if we can’t be together.” She took a breath, preparing to go on, when she was stopped by Harry placing his lips on hers.

“I love you too, Ginny.” He said, staring deep into her eyes, “But I need to do this alone. I don’t want to drag you even further into this. I realize I already have, and those months together were the best of my life.” He kissed her again, “I need to do this alone. You were understanding before, and I hope you are now.”

Ginny smiled, and stood up. “I understand,” she said, and walked away. She picked up her shoes, and continued her way to the Burrow. She knew Hermione and Ron would be going with him, but she also knew one unsaid thing.

He would be coming back for her.

Harry didn’t have to say it, she knew he meant it. The journey would be his alone, but coming back and the rest of his life would be shared with her. No words had to be spoken. She knew it.

With a small smile on her face, Ginny walked into the Burrow, and into her room, where Hermione was already asleep.

Finite
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